Amanda was born. Well, if I were actually writing this post tomorrow, this title would be true. Yes, I am a Valentine’s baby. Lucky, lucky me born on the day when the entire world pairs off with their spouse, partner, significant other, lover, or other form of person whom they share ‘love’ with.
People have often tried to lump my Valentine’s birthday with being ‘as bad’ as having a birthday on or near other holidays. Christmas, for example. “Valentine’s birthday? Yeeesh. Well, at least it’s not on Christmas. All those double-duty presents. That’d be awful.”
No, you see, for me, it’s never been about the presents; or the fear that someone would try to double-up on me with “Happy Birthday, Happy Valentine’s”. For me, it’s all about the company you keep. And the thing about the other holidays is that they’re typically all about family gatherings. Valentine’s Day is just the opposite. Everyone pairs off in the ‘let’s go get on Noah’s ark’ fashion. And, should you find yourself not a part of a pair come Valentine’s Day, then, well, the cheese stands alone.
I, of the ‘single gal’ variety, have always found myself flying solo come V-day. Call it bad timing, or call it good fortune (depending on your own personal views of Valentine’s Day), but I’ve never ‘officially’ had a Valentine on Valentine’s. There have been dates on or around V-day, sure, but the DTR had yet to take place, and thus I have never actually experienced excitement over having a boyfriend on Valentine’s. Thank the good Lord for my sweet family who loves me regardless and for my good friends who love me with or without a boyfriend. Though, it sure would be nice if I had a boyfriend to bring along for my girlfriends’ boyfriends and husbands to play with when we all get together. (oh well).
But, all kidding and good-natured dramatic bitterness aside, I truly am blessed to be born on Valentine’s Day.
For me, Valentine’s Day has always meant heart-shaped birthday cakes with red and white icing, and ice cream cakes from Dairy Queen until the DQ in my hometown closed (sad, sad day); special “Happy Birthday” ballons mixed in with “Happy Valentine’s” ones sent to school so that my balloon bouquet would be unique from all the others; flowers other than red roses because red roses are obvious and I prefer tulips and peonies and gerberia daisies far more; white teddy bears wearing red bows around their necks; having everyone – and I mean everyone (the ladies at the DMV, bouncers at bars, police officers issuing speeding tickets, the HR department at work) all get a little extra smiley when they see my birthdate on my driver’s license and they say, “You were born on Valentine’s Day?!?!”. And I nonchalantly nod, smile, and say “Yep. I sure was.” I don’t know if other people who have holidays as birthdays get this same reaction. Now that I think of it, I don’t know any people who have holidays as birthdays. Well, there is Jimmy Buffett who shares Jesus’ birthday. Maybe I should ask him. Is he on Twitter yet?
Anyway, back to my point.
My point is that I really do love my birthday, and even if my birthday was the most ordinary day in October, I would still love it. But, having a Valentine’s birthday is special, if for no other reason than no one ever forgets my birthday. And this is why I know that when I find the person I want to share love with, he’ll never double up on gifts, and he’ll always make my birthday just as special as I know it is.
And that’s what we all deserve anyhow – a special day.
Who will you be spending my birthday with? Whoever it is, I hope they make your Valentine’s Day especially special this year!