We almost never do anything for Valentine’s Day. I almost always end up disappointed because I like to set my expectations high and assume that history is no way to accurately predict future results. Sure, he’s never bought flowers, but this will be the year he springs for sky writing!

(By the way, sky writing? The most awesome idea EVER. I’m a sucker for public declarations of affection. At least, I’m pretty sure I am. In theory. At least, so far it is just in theory.)

ANYway, not a big fan of Valentine’s Day. Too many rituals and mushy stories to remind me that my husband is not the world’s best planner and therefore obviously doesn’t love me as much as yours loves you.

(What? That makes perfect sense. It is always a good idea to judge your relationship based on another relationship between two completely different people. Almost as good as judging your current relationship based on your past relationships with other people. I am a relationship genius, people!)

I promise that is the last paragraph I end in italics. Right after this one.

Ack! Concentrate, Britt!

Let me jump to the conclusion to ensure you don’t miss it in all this rambling:

This Valentine’s Day was awesome. Better than awesome. One of the top ten nights of my life awesome. Possibly one of the most romantic nights in the entire history or romantic nights. Ever. And this paragraph would be much better with a concluding sentence in italics, and you know it.

Ahem. Sorry.

ANYway, we didn’t plan anything for Valentine’s Day. We had assumed, as most couples with children do, that we wouldn’t have a babysitter and would spend the night at home. However, at the very last minute (seriously – Friday night/Saturday morning last minute), our regular sitter confirmed that she was available and willing to watch the kids for a few hours.

A reliable sitter without Valentine’s Day plans of her own? It was obvious that God was pretty much demanding that we go out and celebrate.

You can’t say no to God, people.

Of course, it was Saturday morning before I knew we were doing anything. Apparently everyone else in the entire world plans for Valentine’s Day about a year in advance and we knew there was no way we were getting reservations anywhere.

Damn. This story is starting to drag.

ANYway – long story short:

We drove over to a tiny restaurant right off the water that we usually take the kids to when they have to pee while we’re at the beach. We waited 40 minutes for a table, and killed the time by walking up and down the beach together. In the dark.

If you’ve never had a chance to walk along a nearly deserted beach at nigh, add it to your Things To Do Before You Die List.


After dinner, we took a couple of blankets back down to the beach and just… sat there. Well, I mean, we didn’t just sit there. We hugged and kissed and leaned on one another. We sighed and whispered and just… well, sat there. Basically.

We were home by 10 o’clock. Dinner was $28 and the sitter was $40. I can’t think of anything else I’d have rather spent that $68 on, or one more thing any of us could have bought that could have made the night more perfect.

I was reminded how much being together helps. Everything. I was reminded how the biggest strain on our relationship has always come from a lack of time together.

I was reminded how everything in the world is better with him.

The sky. The sand. The water. The dark. All things I’ve soaked up without him a dozen times. All things I love on my own. But standing beside him… changes everything.

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