Love-shove

I am not a big fan of Valentine's day. Have always been conflicted about it, like I have about most things. So a part of me shuns the 'celebration' so to say but another part (or maybe the same sneaky part) also likes it when there is something special going on.

But this post is not about that. Let me get to the point.

V-day 2009 - A and I decided not to give each other anything for V-Day, or behave as if it meant anything to our hardened twenty-six year old selves. It was the first one for us and soon after we had started going out. Mush has pretty much been anathema for me upwards of the age of twenty. So we decided not to bite the bait of commercialization. Lo and behold, I was gifted a sweet little expensive Swarovski teddy bear (I still don't know what to do with it) No fair, Mr A, said I! But secretly, I loved the gesture.

V-day 2010 - Again we didn't make a big deal of it. It was like any other day with maybe more fine in the dine than otherwise. But I woke up to the smell of roses. My secret evil little self did dance a little jig of joy.

Now cut to V-day 2011 - I go to office, travel to my market even, come back early, feel terrible about not getting him anything , go rushing to the nearest boutique, grab something that would look good on him (admittedly not the best threads in town, but it is about tradition, isn't it?) and get back in time to get ready and looking good. He comes sauntering in, carrying his self and his declarations of love, sans any restaurant bookings even.

Sigh. I read someplace recently that 'Fairy tales do for women for porn does for men - set unrealistic expectations'. While no rustic hillbilly in the department of charm and chivalry, A has come of age I guess. His acts of love have transformed from getting me flowers to getting me a Demat account. Well, love has many forms, and then again, so does a Demat account.