I’ve come to the conclusion that parents shouldn’t date – or maybe it’s just me and B. We’re pretty disastrous when it comes to finding ourselves with a few child free hours but last Friday night pips the lot of them. Date Night? More like waste night as our car pulled back up to the house at 10:50pm and we swore next time would be better.
Valentines has come and gone this year and once again there are no flowers in a vase or cards on our mantel. We avoided the wall of hearts and red flowers, and the hallmark quotes have been given to young couples who revel in the mushy romance of the day. You see, B and I don’t do Valentines. In fact, in our 16 years together, we’ve never really done Valentines. It’s nothing to do with the monetary ridiculousness of the mass produced corporate world. Or the falseness and pressure of the day. It’s more to do with the fact that we first met on the 16th of February and for many years celebrated our relationship and swoon worthy love two days later than everybody else. Now, that we’re married and have ten years of fiercely loyal marriage under our belts we celebrate our wedding date instead, sending the anniversary of when our eyes first met and good old St Valentine to the back burner.