It has been almost 11 years of marriage and 14 years of best-friendship and I counted 5 occasions that he's sent me flowers. 3 of these were to say he's sorry for something stupid that he's done or said.
Don't get me wrong. I am not whining again. Flowers are just not my thing. I do love tulips, so David had 1 tattooed on my ankle instead. Then years ago, I had asked him to buy me a sunflower tattoo to add to my repertoire of "non-wilting" flowers, this time on my thigh. And because my sunflower tattoo looked quite lonely - or the canvas was too large - he then bought me a dragonfly tattoo to keep it company. 5 tattoos later, and almost running out of space, I had decided that I would prefer a fabulous home-cooked dinner whether or not it was Valentine's day.
Then I remembered the first dinner that he had cooked for me. It was a chicken pie. The crust however didn't turn out right, so he proudly presented me with a plate of his gourmet chicken stew instead. My first thoughts as I remembered, was that the bloke was oddly creative. He had done whatever he could under the circumstance to ensure that I got fed. Truly a man after my heart.
He hasn't stopped since. Today, he prepares my breakfast everyday. He butters my toast, brews my coffee, sometimes drawing a heart shape on the foam, pours my juice and prepares my pills for me every morning.
When I need a durian fix, much as he hates the smell of the fruit, he would gamely drive me to a durian fruit stall at Geylang, pick out the best and the biggest durian, then sit there to watch me polish off the entire fruit myself while he happily munch on a slice of pineapple.... the smells notwithstanding.
Everyday without fail he would tell me he loves me "up to the sky and back", whether I am in a bad mood or not.
So while most of the world is celebrating Valentine's day, I am truly grateful that my Valentine's day has never stopped the day I married David.
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