Is This Real Life? Why, Yes. Yes, It Is.

I genuinely enjoy Valentine's Day.  I loved it even when I didn't have anyone to call my Valentine.  All the candies and flowers and happiness that float around make me feel full in the typically cold quadrant of my chest where my heart should be.  Maybe it's the optimist (that sometimes comes to visit) in me that makes me all mushy, but I can't help it.  I LOVE love.

And this year, I'm worse.

I'm in a post-Valentine's dreamland, where everything is fluffy bunnies and the world is throwing up rainbows.

The boyfriend (Mr. Wildcard) sent me a spectacular, just right for me, surprise Valentine.  I was speechless.  Okay, okay, maybe not speechless.  I kind of yelped and carried on and was VERY LOUD, but the sentiment was still the same.  Someone cared enough for me to send an incredible, memory-making present.  Basically, Mr. Wildcard hit it out of the park, definitively.

Here is the part where I usually go on and on about how I couldn't believe someone would go out of their way for me, but this year it's different.  I've found someone who loves me the way I should be loved.  Someone who cares for me the same way I do for them.  I appreciate the effort and the thought  behind his gift immensely and I'm wowed, but at the same time I deserve this happiness.

When someone does something nice for us, we sometimes think, "Why? Why would they do that for me?"  That's not the point.  The point is they did it because you're worth it.  When you become concerned with the 'why's' you miss everything that is so great about that moment.  Just sit back and know that they did what they did for you because they probably think you're just as awesome as you think they are.

As much as I talk about how great I am, I don't really rate myself well.  I mean, sure I'm comfortable in lots of situations, smartish, pretty in a Drew Barrymore/goofy face kinda way, tall, subversively comedic, good with strangers, polite, thoughtful, have nice penmanship and about 10,000+ other wonderful things...wait, what was I saying?

In all honesty, I'm always astounded when someone wants to date me.  I don't get it, but the cool part is, I don't have to.  Mr. Wildcard doesn't love me in spite of my dorkiness, disproportionally loud laugh and crooked smile, he kinda loves me because of those things.  And who am I to argue?

Accept the love you're given.  Give the love you feel.

It's as simple as that.

~j