I love how many of you say your favorite gift was something other than the expected. Time, sappy movies, an errand run in the rain for your benefit…these are my favorite sorts, too. But Michelle, I hope your hubby remembers that you’re not fond of meatloaf this time.

Thinking back, I’ve never gotten a flat-out ghastly gift for Valentine’s Day that I can remember. Certainly there have been gifts I’ve liked better than others, but nothing that comes anywhere near as rotten as something that’s tacky and clearly not for my benefit or a break up note. I do, however, have a best Valentine’s Day gift story that will probably appeal to some of my fellow romantic suckers out there.

The year was 1986, and Mr. Twistie and I had just started dating the month before. It was a long-distance romance with some hundred miles or so between us. I actually had plans to be away over Valentine’s weekend, plans that had been made well before Mr. Twistie swept me off my feet with an afternoon of used bookstores, garlic fondue, and Monty Python.

The day before I was set to go on my trip, during the worst rainstorm that had hit the area in decades, I was working my shift in the department store restaurant that employed me at the time. As we were closing things down at the end of the shift, someone came back and told me some guy was was there to see me.

I walked out of the back only to find a dripping wet Mr. Twistie standing in the doorway bearing a single, long-stemmed red rose. He drove over a hundred miles in a vicious downpour just because he didn’t want to miss seeing me over Valentine’s. And since I had to finish packing that night, he could only stay for a short while, but he said it was worth it. Yes, it was a rose and chocolates and dinner, but I absolutely wasn’t expecting any of it. Wibble.

Have I mentioned lately that I love that man all to pieces and back again?

For years, Hubs and I did the whole cranky anti-establishment protest of Hallmark holidays thing, insisting that if we REALLY cared about each other we would do special things whenever we wanted to. Problem was, we never actually HAD those random celebrations of our love/relationship/whatever. Clearly, we needed a little structure. Now we use V-day and anniversaries and such as an excuse to set aside time and do something special for each other, which usually entails making a big complicated meal together and drinking way too much wine. This year we’re making sushi and watching kung-fu movies :)

One of the most romantic things my husband ever did for me was to go to Wal-Mart at midnight to get a new battery for my car and then install it immediately so I could go to my early-morning exercise class.

My second husband is off the hook, though. I make a deal with him before we got married: he didn’t have to give me stuff for the traditional days (birthday, Valentine, etc.) so long as anytime I asked, he’d get me something within a week. I’d much rather have a gift when I’m feeling low, plus get that terrific feeling that I can ask for my needs to be met and get them met right away, than get perfunctory automatic gifts. (The other part of the deal is that he never has to read my mind about what I want: I just tell him. He keeps a list of things I’ve asked for and chooses something off the list when I ask for a gift.)

Worst Valentine- Bar None- I was 16, had my first boyfriend who had a massive- were talking Marlon Brandos Funeral Spray- flower arrangement , delivered with an uber flowery romantic card that had a ring in it- it was my ring that I gave to him. In the card was a note that said he was sorry, that he wanted to end things. I was sapped, hurt, cryng and all around pathetic. Had to spend my first broken heart in a world that was celebrating all things love related. The worst part of the day was running into him and a friend of mine sharing an order of fries at the burger joint my girlfriends took me too in order to drown my broken heart with chocolate milk shakes and fries. I didn’t stop wearing black on Valentines Day until that spectacular day 14 years later with the man who would become my husband.

It’s been 20 years- I think I’ll forgive the guy….