Where is Cupid?

Valentin's Day (the "e" is dropped here for good reasons---it is less ink to use on a card, so it is more money the French can then make off the already ridiculously priced paper products. Or at least this is my theory). In America this is the time that the drug stores, department stores, grocery stores, and Hallmark stores all find another reason to remind those in love that they are lucky, and torture those who have not met Prince Charming. Here in Paris, it is nothing more than another date on the calendar (with every five patisseries participating by hanging a few paper hearts in their display case, with an occasional deviant one actually selling heart-shaped fare). We have plans to meet up for a coffee and stroll with a couple who have been living in France for the last five years. Although they are our age, their Valentin day is Parisian. They are spending the day with a couple that they have met once before. This plan won out the other offer we had to go to the market with my Parisian friend and his beau. Whereas at first I was aghast that others were okay with sharing V-day with us, the Benzes, the couple that goes to the library on Wednesday nights, and delights in Saturday mornings with our vacuum cleaner. However, the more I thought about it (and I have, as it seems so un-American to have plans with others---especially the first Valentin's Day that Matt and I are married), the more I believe that my Valentin mentality has just changed. For good. Why should we set aside one day to cherish our relationship, when it should be a daily activity?

Today, after a sluggish morning, Matt and I took the metro, then the commuter train (RER) to a seedier suburb so that we could then walk one mile in the freezing cold to return a couch cover that didn't fit. I can't say that the stinging wind was enjoyable, but every other moment was. Even the IKEA workers striking outside of the store, causing the return to take way more time than it should have, was not enough to put a damper in our Saturday together. Matt and I love each other, and enjoy each other's company, and we needn't ear mark one day to remind each other of this. Whether it is schlepping up an icy hill, L.L. Bean tote bursting with couch cover, IKEA no where to be found (and no ability to ask for directions), or sitting with the other exasperated customers waiting for their number to be called, chomping on sour cream and onion chips and I-K-E-A cookies, our time together is coveted and helps us develop as "us."

Although I am desperate for some fun female friends (and do believe I am actually well on my way---last night I had drinks with some fabulous ladies. One of them is from Fort Washington, PA and went to Upper Dublin High School!), this life change is a chance for Matt and I to grow as people and as a couple. I look forward to walking Matt to work in the morning, and chatting with him during the day. When I pick him up on foot, it is then that we catch up on whatever was not exchanged via email or text--usually centered around French frustration. He is my husband, and even though I love him infinitely, we still have so much more to learn about each other and to discover about our dynamics and desires. We have devoted our lives to one another, and with that comes certain responsibilities. One of the most important being the insistence and consistence of quality time together. Now and forever more.

So, whereas most Americans will be fretting about getting their heart-shaped chocolate boxes and red roses tomorrow, we will be on a double-date with a couple we barely know. And this is how I want it to be moving forward (minus the no true friends part). Love can't be bought, and there is no reason why we should treat it that way. Yes, I say this as I am watching Bridget Jones Diary (a character I used to identify with way too well), but I think she would agree with me. Friends, family, and significant others are the people in our lives that shape us, support us, and love us. Why save that out-pouring of love for one day? As Matt and I walked home today with a bag full of Swedish shee and a little red Gerbera daisy in a happy yellow pot, I knew that the joy I felt just being by his side, will not be amplified by overpriced flowers or a fancy dinner out. Real love should be cherished daily, and although I am not sure the French are intentionally trying to relay that message by keeping their red and pink doilies to a minimum, I believe that the most romantic city in the world may be just that for a very good reason. Here, love is in the air, and not in a box. And although I have already had quite a few issues with the French ways, for once, I think they may be onto something....



P.S.- Cupid can be found here. Just check the Louvre!