I really don’t like Valentine’s Day. I hate to admit it, but it’s true. I don’t have a problem with roses in bloom, sweet confections or declarations of love. I would simply rather receive them on any day other than February 14th.

I don’t want to sound like a curmudgeon. I can appreciate the expression of love as much as the next person. In fact, some of my fondest childhood memories are of seeing my father dance my mother around the kitchen or leave love notes for her in the mailbox. Even today, after more than 40 years of marriage, they hold hands when they walk down the street.

Perhaps all of this has spoiled me, but I’d prefer to whirl around the kitchen dance floor on a random Wednesday night than eat an overpriced meal in a dimly lit restaurant with 100 other chattering couples tonight. And I’d rather find a note taped to the bathroom mirror that reads, “you make me happy” than a forced, overwrought declaration of undying love.

We have bought into such a hyped up image of love. It isn’t always candlelight dinners, roses and diamonds. For me, the most beautiful love is as simple as choosing to be with someone who sees you as the person you are and who chooses to be with you too.

So, if you really love, tell me on February 15th!

[Updated from February 2008]