The Diary of Ashley Spencer: Mentally Reuniting The Ghosts of Valentine’s Day Past

I had one really great boyfriend in high school. He played volleyball and had thick curly hair that I loved, even though it was vaguely reminiscent of the late MJ’s fro. Unlike the guys I “dated” in college, he enjoyed holding hands and talking on the phone to me about my life, which I can’t really imagine anyone taking the time to do now. Back then I liked people who were nice, and he was really nice. Because he called me “boo.” At the time, that was adorable.

On our first legitimate date, I picked him up from school and we ate Chinese food. I remember him being really nervous, and I’m pretty sure he licked the rim of his water cup in a strange but endearing way. Afterward, we walked around some random store full of do-it-yourself science projects, and he stole a magnetic marble for me. I kept it with my jewelry for years. On the weekends, we’d pretty much make out and watch “Donnie Darko,” and he’d give me hickies, which I proudly displayed at my all-girls school as official proof that I wasn’t a lesbian. (It’s at this point as I’m writing this that I really, really hope this guy doesn’t read SparkLife blogs when he’s bored at work.)

Sure, at the time, there were things that bugged me about him, like the fact that he had a wallet made out of duct tape. He was really shy and my friends nicknamed him “the mute,” but I talked enough for the both of us. But all in all, he was a great guy. I think on the Valentine’s Day we were going out, we went to see an action movie, something like “Spiderman” or “X-Men.” That’s one of the first things I learned about dating: you see a lot of movies you really have no desire to watch, just so you can hold hands in the dark.

The reason I am telling you this is because that was probably the last nice Valentine’s Day I had. V-Day doesn’t really get more exciting when you grow up a little bit. That’s a lie your parents tell you when you’re dateless in high school. They're full of it when they say, “Don’t worry, honey, your dating life will be so much more awesome later. Like in your twenties.” Odds are it won’t be exciting. I mean, last year, my friends came over and we played Rock Band and drank pink stuff. It was nothing special.

Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. I’m talking about my high school boyfriend because I now realize the man friends I had between ages eight to 18 were the best boyfriends of my life—even if they had braces, lisps, acne, and controlling mothers who spied on us at the park. My first boyfriend, Clint, gave me the Scotty dog beanie baby for my birthday once. I’m pretty sure it's now at a resale shop, but it’s the thought that counts. My totally cute BF who was in sixth grade when I was fifth grade gave me earrings from The Limited for Valentine’s Day, and one of those V-Day messages the school sold for a quarter. I think I still have it under my bed to this day. “I Love You,” it says, which is totally funny when written in the chicken scratch of an 11-year-old.

If I had my way, I’d celebrate this Valentine’s Day with 1) Clint, who still lives down the block from me, and who I rode on the train with to work today, 2) my sixth grade BF, who's still really nice and has cute freckles, and 3) my high school boyfriend, who I bet has a good job and would totally pay for our entire group’s dinner with the money he probably still stores in his duct tape wallet. These guys knew me when I still believed in things like spontaneous combustion, falling in love whenever you see fireworks, and the Tooth Fairy. Maybe I will call them up and see if they all want to hang out and go couple skating at the local rollerblading rink. One of them can pick up a bag of War Heads and we can reminisce about life before commutes and boring soul-sucking jobs that crush our spirits. Of course, we can also talk about how entirely awesome VH1’s Pop-Up Video was and what a great little girlfriend I was. This year, I just want to hang out with not one, but three nice dudes who won’t mind that I will be wearing a flannel shirt. Is that so much to ask?

What are you doing this year for the Big Day? Will you play Rock Band with your friend or do you have a hot date at the local hamburger joint? Tell Ashley so she can be totally jealous.

Related post: Coping with February Breakups

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