Pgh Pug Mama

One week from today, I’m getting married.

Surreal.

I have been thinking lately about how the best things in my life are things I have fallen into, unplanned and unexpected.

My career, my relationship, my pug mama-hood.

All decisions made with spontaneity and a sense of adventure.

I think sometimes I forget about that. It’s important to remember it.

Ladies, please.

Even in a loving, functional relationship, I am a Valentine’s Day skeptic.

As women we are marketed the fantasy of Prince Charming — someone who thinks everything we do is perfect, who never asks us to lift a finger to do anything for ourselves, who anticipates our every need and want, who showers us with material tokens of his affection. Valentine’s Day excess is part of that Prince Charming package, a myth perpetuated by the media machine along with the stereotypical scene of the glamorous woman at home excited over the prospect of gifts while the man is poring over Hallmark cards on his way home from work, scrambling to throw together an afterthought. So special!

All over my social media yesterday, beautiful/talented/hilarious/incredible women were bemoaning the lack of a Prince Charming to give them an epic Valentine’s Day. It’s bullshit.

Ladies, I’m here to tell you that Prince Charming does not exist. When you find the right man to make a life with you may come close, but he will never be the myth. Any vibrant and interesting relationship will have its disagreements and straight up battles — how boring would life be if your spouse never challenged you; challenge improves character. He will not do everything for you — and you are a fool if you let him because you will miss acquiring life skills and will handicap your ability to function without him. It is unrealistic to expect anyone to intrinsically know what you want — just like in anything else, if you want it you must ask for it. Material gifts mean nothing — any bozo with a credit card can lavish you with stuff, but you cannot build a future on piles of teddy bears and chocolates.

Any man who thinks a wonderful Valentine’s Day exempts him from proving his commitment the other 364 days of the year does not deserve you. (And any woman who thinks it’s only a man’s job to prove his commitment is a bitch — he may not be Prince Charming, but you aren’t Marilyn Monroe meets Betty fucking Crocker.)

I put a moratorium on Valentine’s Day in my relationship from the very beginning. Yesterday consisted of running out for snacks at 6pm when stores marked the candy down to half price. We then ate it snuggled up in bed together watching IFC on Netflix, which is part of our usual week. We don’t do Valentine’s Day because we do Valentine’s Day all the time.

It’s Valentine’s Day every time I come home from a 12 hour shift and find that on his day off he cleaned the apartment so I didn’t have to worry about it on my day off. It’s Valentine’s Day every time I get up early on my day off to pack him a lunch. It’s Valentine’s Day every time I stand outside in the cold with the dog before he gets home so he doesn’t have to, and Valentine’s Day every other time when he won’t let me take the dog out because he doesn’t want me in the alley in the dark. It’s Valentine’s Day every time we designate an hour to put down the study materials and cuddle on the couch, enjoying each other’s company.

If you truly love one another you do not need a commercial holiday to make love feel special. It’s the little everyday acts of caring and respect that say “I love you” better than any sugary heart ever could. And, unlike roses, they won’t begin to wilt in a few days. They last a lifetime.

As far as the flowers and chocolates and jewelry — I’ll just buy that shit myself.