I’m not much for Valentine’s Day. It’s always been a competition between that and my birthday, just a week apart. Our bank account and my sensibilities generally keep me from wanting to splurge on anything, as I probably splurged the week before. So I generally ignore the holiday wholesale.

Which, of course, would be fine and well and good if it weren’t for the fact that there are other people in the world who don’t ignore the holiday, and in fact, feel hurt if it goes by without fanfare. Luckily for me and my orientation, most of those people are women. The men I’ve dallied with, had crushes on and enjoyed various other states of attraction with seem mostly relieved that I’m not upset at no flowers, no jewelry, no fancy dinner. Gets them off the hook.

But this one, this man who is central to my life, I think he likes a little gushiness. I think he likes a once-a-year dose of hearts and flowers and sweet nothings. Ok, I am quite sure he likes the sweet nothings, especially if they come wrapped in chocolate.

So for you, dear, my love, here’s a little expression of my inner gushiness, which I try so hard to keep hidden:

92

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
.................                      ...................i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

e. e. cummings