A man (Greg) once told this story to a woman he was fond of (Victoria), hoping that she would like it, and perhaps take some inspiration from it. They found a quiet room where they could be together, undisturbed, and he began......
In most northern climes, February 14 is a day when almost everybody could use a little warming up. What better way to warm up than with a little romance? Maybe that’s why Valentine’s Day was invented.
Nobody knows for sure who St. Valentine was, or why his name is on that particular date. I have my ideas about it. I think that Val (as his sweetheart called him) was a Norwegian. It’s possible his surname was Anderson, but that’s just an idea of mine, based on certain historical facts. Some think he might have been a clergyman, or perhaps a high-ranking government official. I think he was just an average country farmer – not poor, but certainly not rich, growing up with his farming family in the Norwegian countryside.
Early in life, Val fell in love with his neighbor – not exactly “the girl next door,” in the usual sense. Her family lived about five miles from his, but that still made them nearest neighbors. (They didn't exactly live "in town.") Like Val’s, her parents were Norwegian farmers. I’m assuming that, like Val’s family, her family all looked very “Norwegian,” with light complexion and blond hair. She - her name was Gaia - was a notable exception. Gaia was light skinned, but her hair was chestnut – dark brown, with shadings of red – that she always wore long, reaching below her shoulders. I think she had an ancestor from southern Europe – possibly Greece, which could account for both her coloration and her name – Gaia, goddess of the earth. I think Val would have fallen for her, whatever she looked like, but the long, flowing, dark hair with a slight curl in it sealed the deal for him. He had loved her since pre-teen days. He was pretty sure she loved him just as strongly.
I assume that Val and Gaia talked about marriage and family, but I don’t know that, for sure. Val proceeded as if it was inevitable. He bought a parcel of land about mid-way between their two families, where he built a house – not too ostentatious, but large enough for a growing family. He did all the work himself, taking extra time for personal effects that made the house uniquely their own. When it was finished, he sat down at the desk he had hand-carved, took a large sheet of paper, and spent several days painting the edges with bright birds, flowers, and hearts – all the symbols of love in early Norway. In the center of the page, he wrote out what is believed to have been the most heartfelt, emotional, and deeply romantic poem ever composed. The poem didn’t survive, so no one but Gaia and Val knew exactly what was said. (This was a real frustration to some later scholars, who – hearing that it was the greatest expression of love ever written – wanted to examine and analyze Val’s technique. Technique? Didn’t they realize that the only way to create a poem so amazing would be to have feelings as deep and sincere as Val’s, ready to spontaneously spill out on the page as one began to write?)
Val finished his poem on a cold and snowy February day, bundled himself in the warmest clothes he had, and walked to Gaia’s home. He presented his card to her – the first “Valentine.” He was very gratified by her response, which included a kiss there on her doorstep .
After the kiss, the cold, snowy day suddenly felt a lot warmer. It probably could have felt even warmer, but as is common knowledge, no matter how good a kiss is when delivered in view of one's parents, it can't be a really spectacular one Val and Gaia both enjoyed the kiss, but neither was entirely satisfied. Val had an idea.
"Gaia darling," he said, "Are you up for a little stroll over to our new home? I’ve made some recent innovations that you haven’t yet seen." She said that, yes, she was indeed up for a little stroll.
Halfway to the new house, they stopped for a prolonged period, and exchanged the spectacular kiss that they had both been longing for. At the house, he showed her the new porch swing that he had recently completed. She liked it, quite a lot. Then, he took her into the kitchen, and showed her the new knobs he had put on the cabinets. She liked those, also. They went into the bedroom, where his pride was evident as he described the work he had been putting in on the headboard to their bed. She acknowledged the craftwork, but then stood looking at the bed, itself.
“Do you think the bed is just the right firmness that we’ll want? I’d be disappointed on our wedding night, if it wasn’t just perfect.”
He couldn’t tell her that, not having had any way to test the bed. He suggested that she lay down on it, to see how it felt. She did, and moved around to various positions. She seemed dissatisfied. He asked if there was a problem. "I don’t think so," she replied. "It’s just that there will be two of us on the bed, so it is likely to feel considerably different than it does with just me here. Perhaps you could…?" He could, and did, lay down beside her. It felt pretty good to him, but he suggested that they move around a bit, to test all aspects of the bed and the mattress. They tried out all manner of different positions, eventually getting very close together, like they might on their first real night there. When they finally decided that the bed was indeed “just right,” the sun was sinking below the trees, and the interior of the house was getting comfortably dark.”
“Okay, wait a minute," said the woman to whom the story was being told, "And let me be sure I’ve caught up. From the length of time Val and Gaia spent on the bed, I am assuming that they consummated their marriage. Right?”
The man agreed. “It certainly seems likely, doesn’t it? I think it’s likely that something else happened, too. Considering the unplanned nature of the event, and the passion with which they almost certainly carried it out, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the first twig on the new Anderson branch of the family tree began to grow that day.”
“You mean…? Well, of course, it stands to reason. And I bet when they found out, they were really pleased. I mean, she didn’t have four years of college ahead of her, or anything like that.
Why not?”
“At that moment, I think we can be sure they were quite content with one another. However, fearing that her parents might suspect some inappropriate shenanigans had occurred, and them probably not being as acquiescing about it as were your parents, they decided…”
“Wait a minute. I need another vocabulary check. I am assuming that ‘inappropriate shenanigans’ means just what I think it means, but what about my parents’ ‘acquiescing.’ What’s that?”
“If you acquiesce to something, it means you may not have approved to begin with, but you eventually come around to accepting what has happened, without any further protest. We know your parents had mixed feelings about our romance, and I suspect they still would have much preferred that we wait to… consummate. But it’s done, and they see that it’s working out okay, so they acquiesce.”
“I get it. You don’t think her parents would have been as understanding?”
“Do you?”
“No, I guess not.”
“It’s probably good all around – especially if a new ‘twig’ was involved – that their marriage was only two weeks away.”
“How do you know that? Oh, wait! I don’t need to know that. It’s your story, and you obviously know what happened.”
“I can see that you’re coming to embrace my knowledge of history. Of course, one thing you learn in college is how to research.”
“Well, you certainly learned that. Your research skills must be amazing. But, forget my interruption. As you said, two weeks later, they got married, moved into their new house, and consummated their marriage legally.”
“That’s not quite right. Consummation is a one-time thing. It’s done, and it’s over. Now, couples may perform similar acts over and over, year after year – as we have been doing. Those later practices, for lack of any better term, are known as loving fun.”
“Loving fun? I like that.”
***
After the story was completed, they finished their wine, and talked a little more. Eventually, Greg led Vic over to their bed, sat her on the edge, and began to help her get undressed. It seemed to be taking a lot longer than was necessary, but neither seemed to be minding the delay.
“Oh, I should get my pajamas,” Vic said, at one point.
“One thing at a time,” replied Greg, as he continued to remove clothing. When he had taken all there was to be taken, he stood back and observed his handiwork.
“You look happy,” Vic said.
“I am happy,” he replied.
“I’m still working on my definitions,” she said. “Am I correct that, once we are both in this bed, and we decide to not go immediately to sleep, what we might do would be called loving fun?”
“You would be correct.”
“Good. I think I have it worked out, now. "
"Okay." He lifted the blankets so she could slide into bed (apparently absent-mindedly forgetting her pajamas). He removed his own clothing in much less time than it had taken to remove hers. He slid in after her, and turned out the light.
***
Greg's notes: By the way, Gaia and Val did live “happily ever after,” and produced the start of a vigorous shoot on the Anderson family tree. Descendants spread out over the Northern Hemisphere, including some who arrived in the United States in the late 19th Century. Most Andersons had – and have – Val’s light Norwegian hair and complexion. But every second or third generation, the line produces a beautiful child with long, flowing, slightly curly, chestnut tresses – a tribute to, and reminder of, Gain’s southern European roots. Some believe that these dark- haired Norwegian beauties carry special magic in their genes, and that those around them all seem especially blessed. I don’t know if that’s true of all of them, but it certainly is of the one dark-haired beauty I know personally
I should also point out that I misspoke when I said Val's card was “the first” Valentine. Actually, it was the only Valentine ever written and presented. What has followed, century after century, was the result of an historical confusion about how Val closed his “card.” He didn’t say, “Will you be my Valentine?” What he said was, “Will you be Mrs. Valentine?” This was his presentation to his one and only lifelong true love.
So, actually - at least because of Saint Valentine - there is absolutely no reason to have a day (and night) devoted to flowers, chocolate, stuffed animals, dates at fancy restaurants, scanty sexy sleep wear (often in red, of course, and not really meant for sleep) – all part of saying she or he is the love of your life – or, at least, of today. We also should remember that, like most celebrations, it can be awful for those who have nothing to celebrate – the longest day of the year! Still, we can hope that they will come to love the plans and the hoped-for (and sometimes realized) rewards.
And really, with or without a Saint Valentine:
ANY EXCUSE FOR ROMANCE IS A GOOD ONE.
ISN'T IT?
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