It's that time of the year again. When styro cut-out hearts and sweet glittery swirls surround you. Boxes of ruffled chocolates. Silly dressed-up stuffed toys. Ballads of outpouring emotions. Gifts wrapped in shimmery paper. Cards that play when you press a button.

I hope I get none of those for Valentine's. Yah, call me a party pooper. Your valentine scrooge. I really don't feel the need. You'll be clamoring for a table reservation in a restaurant filled with mushy-wushy couples. You'll be strolling along holding-hands along with throngs of people doing the same thing. Oh I'd so hate to be the girl lugging a bouquet of flowers around. Or one of those bears holding little printed balloons. Come on, is that a statement of love or of ordinary conformity? I say that it means he can't think of anything else. The last thing I'd want to have is that day's commodity.

Yah well, I'd like to think of myself as not an ordinary kind of girl. And I love being surprised by something different. Because it means that it was given thought. It means that I mean something more than the usual. Now that, my dear, is a sign that he cares, that he knows you, that he wants it to be memorable. I mean, if you can't think of anything else to do, then just have a quiet cup of coffee at home and talk. That's as bare and sincere a heartfelt expression can get. Which is better, I think, than letting a balloon speak for you.

Am I being difficult? Maybe I just enjoy being difficult. But isn't that the challenge? The thrill? When you are able to surprise and go beyond what is expected? Well, for me at least.

Good thing I have someone who's always up for the challenge :)