My Very Best Valentine's Day

My very best Valentine's Day was in 1990. That Nice Boy I Married and I had had our first date the previous October, then, due to complications that would be way too much to go into here, were not together for a few months. We got back together on January 14th, so Valentine's Day was our first "monthiversary."

Each of us surprised the other with flowers at work (I didn't want to scare him with something too over-the-top romantic, so I sent carnations instead of roses.) Each of us spontaneously quoted the movie Blazing Saddles on the card -- nothing like mutual comedic references to help love along.

But the thing that really made it the best Valentine's Day ever was the blizzard. Yep, a blizzard. Chicago got something like 20 inches of snow that day; people were taking three and four hours to get home from work. I, however, had taken the commuter train to work, and as Chicagoans can tell you, the Metra runs through anything.

I slogged the half-block from the train stop to my apartment, through thigh-high drifts. Got in my back door, and before I could even settle in, I realized I was missing a trick. I threw a change of clothes in the backpack that served as my purse, gave the boyfriend a quick call, and hopped back on the train.

I rode it downtown, changed trains, rode it out to the town where he lived, and then spent an hour at a 7-11 waiting for a cab, 'cause the boyfriend couldn't get his car out of the driveway.

But I got to his house, where we promptly got snowed in together for three whole idyllic days. The whole thing was blissfully romantic.

"Well, that's all very nice, Dana," you're thinking, "but what the heck does this have to do with me?" Glad you asked.

Read my story over again. Do you notice the word "chocolate" anywhere? Heck, we couldn't even order a pizza for delivery, much less get to the store for candy.

Yet somehow Valentine's Day has come to be equated with chocolate in the American mind. Maybe it's that whole thing about chocolate making women feel like they're in love. Personally, I'd rather be in love! I am not among the women who, when polled, say they like chocolate better than sex.

So let's all focus on the romantic stuff, shall we? Flowers are good, so are mushy cards. TNBIM and I generally have a romantic dinner by candlelight -- I'm thinking maybe I'll do seared duck breast this year. And we'll share a better-than-usual bottle of wine. Soft, sexy music in the background.

You could ask for lingerie, for that matter. Think you're still too heavy? Take a look at the stuff at Lane Bryant to see just how good sexy nighties and undies look on curvy bodies.

I'm not saying you shouldn't have any chocolate on Valentine's Day, or on other days, for that matter. Most fancy candy stores can put together a sugar-free assortment. And we know you're not going to be eating them too quickly, don't we? 'Cause massive intestinal gas is not romantic. For that matter, if it's a matter of huge importance for you, I could see you getting just a half-a-dozen decadent Godiva chocolates, preferably dark chocolate with nuts, which will have the gentlest blood sugar impact.

But please, can we get over the idea that the whole point of Valentine's Day is chocolate? Take it from a girl who, 19 years later, is still living out an epic love story: Chocolate has nothing to do with it.