It seems my sister has stolen all the deep and meaningful blog subjects. I should link to her, so when you come here looking for something to make the lightbulb light, you can go there instead.

This is my favorite quote thus far:

"I have come to a conclusion that my blog looks like a fucking Valentine. I hate Valentines Day."

I have something deep and meaningful stuck in my head, but the words aren't coming out right.

The other night, out with Chris, and we were talking about past relationships. He's heard my line of men, including the stories that one would never tell their best friend or mother because then the angel wings would be non-existent... and so this time we talked about the women he's dated. I had a slight recollection of a girl who went to OSU, he's mentioned her before and I knew that they dated for four years and were serious. What I didn't remember, but found out, was that he not only bought the engagement ring, but also prepared his proposal.

So it makes me think. Is it possible to love someone so much, have them be "The One" for you, and then mess it all up? What would happen if someone in the relationship made a huge mistake, had a fling, cheated, was unsure about their feelings, and ruined everything? Are they no longer "The One?" Does someone else come along and take their place? Were they never that special person to begin with?

It becomes to much to think about. Rather, do men return the rings? Keep them for the next someone special? Hmm.

So, I must admit, I hate Valentine's as much as my sister and her very pink blog do. Valentine's makes you start thinking about these crazy things you would have left alone had it not been the month for lovers. Valentine's makes you dread recieving a cutesy stuffed animal, or not-at-all-creative red roses. Valentine's makes you count the number of days you've known him and ask yourself questions like, what the fuck do I get him? Do I take off work? Do I forbid him to buy me anything?

Love is crazy.


Did I ever tell you how much I hate that word?