Last year the Boyfriend appeared on our daughter’s birthday at 6:45 a.m. He gave her a flower. He wished her happy birthday.  I’m pretty sure he shook her hand or whatever. Then his dad drove him to school.
 
We, on the other hand, didn’t need to drive our daughter to school that morning. We just tied a ribbon to her ankle and she floated in. That’s what romance does for a girl. It doesn’t work that way on dads, however.  Especially military dads.  Romance makes dads sulk. 

“It isn’t fair,” Brad told me later. “Bad enough that the guy is acting all mushy around her, but he is making it tough for every other guy, too.”
 
“Every other guy at school?” I asked.
 
“No, every other guy on Earth,” he said.  “One guy breaks ranks with that romance stuff and every other guy has to follow suit or look like a dirt bag.” He collapsed into his chair. “And he has to pull that stuff the week before Valentine’s Day?  How am I going to compete with that?  It isn’t like my dad can drive me over to your house or anything.”

He wasn’t worried about her.  He was worried about me.  Was he kidding?  I mean, he does have a point.  Birthdays and Valentine’s Days are pretty easy for new boyfriends.  A flower, a card, a candle — if the guy remembers the day at all he’s golden. The second V-day requires a little more effort and organization. The third requires an Act of God.  Is that why people get engaged on February 14?

Valentine’s Day does seem to have a habit of falling on the most unromantic days — like Monday, or Tuesday even. They don’t tell you that at “Boyfriend and Girlfriend” school.  They don’t tell you that the Valentine’s Day Love Test has a way of slapping itself down in a week of freezing rain.  The exact instant the e-mail on the ship goes down. The moment the commanding officer thinks up a special reason to stay out an extra week or two. By then a single flower at 6:45 a.m. isn’t a big enough gesture for such an all-encompassing love.  What is?  What ever could be?

Valentine’s Day isn’t about true love at all.  It’s more about romance — the newness and uncertainty and excitement and bone-deep thrill of an ever-expanding interest. Even though it’s a holiday for all, only a few of us will have a turn with that floating-on-a-ribbon feeling on the day itself.  I’ve had my turn with that.
 
Now I find that I have reeled the ribbon from my ankle and woven it onto my finger. At the other end I find not a boyfriend, but a man and a husband.  He offers love that is less and less like candy and more and more like toast. Wholesome. Warm. Easy. 

So I’m not sure what my husband has to worry about this year. Even though he is still camping out in New Orleans, he will be with us in San Diego on the day itself.  We won’t have our wedding china on the table or the usual brownies in the heart-shaped pan.  We still don’t have household goods.

But it will be a good day. Because if there is one thing military life teaches me over and over is that romance has its place in every love. It drenches the beginning of the relationship and dribbles through the rest. One of these years I may find myself covered in rose petals or chocolate truffles or tickets to Cancun — maybe on Valentine’s Day and maybe on some weird Tuesday.  I might like that very much.  But this is every bit as good.