You'd think that after 25 years of marriage we'd be better at it

“So how was your Valentine’s Day?” my sweet friend Meghan asked me this week.

I had to laugh. Sort of. And then I told her the truth.

Truth which actually started last Wednesday—the Wednesday before Valentine’s Day—when B called me from work. “So, do you want to go out for dinner this weekend?”

My mind was thinking, Are you crazy? This is Valentine’s weekend. We’ll never get a reservation.” But instead my mouth said, “Are you crazy? This is Valentine’s weekend. We’ll never get a reservation.”

And then nothing happened until Friday when B called me from work again and said, “So, how do you feel about eating a little early tomorrow night?”

“What? Like as in 4:30 when the old people eat?” I said.

“Nah, not that early. How about 4:45?” That B. He’s such a kidder.

And me? I’m too honest for my own good.

“No,” I said. “Basically, no. We’ll be done with dinner by 6 and then we’ll have to go back home to the kids and that won’t be fun at all. Nope. Not gonna do it.”

So we talked about it a little more and decided that we’d go out the next weekend. When all the Valentine’s Day losers go out to eat.

So then Valentine’s Day came, and, frankly, I was pretty excited because you know what happened last Sunday.

The Olympics.

When our neighbor, Nancy Swider-Peltz, Jr. was skating in the 3000m women’s speed skating competition. And I really wanted to see it.

But there was this little matter of a meeting I had at church that afternoon. And then another matter of Nancy’s skate being postponed by a couple of hours. And the DVR recording that didn’t happen. And then another matter of a hockey game that was on when I got home. Well, and if I’m to be completely honest here, which I most certainly am, there might have been a little bit of a hormonal matter going on too.

And before I knew it the Blackhawks were in a shootout and Nancy skated and our DVR had not recorded it and I missed the whole thing. And I was kind of . . . oh . . . mad.

But I held it in. For a little while. Until B asked me what was the matter and, silly me, I had to be completely honest and blame hockey, whose fault it certainly was, which made him mad and so we were both mad for different reasons, both, I think, hormonal.

Children huddled in the basement. Dogs whined. Voices were raised. It was an ugly, ugly scene.

All over . . . what? I can’t even remember.

The next day we talked laughed about it, realizing that we couldn’t even really remember why we had had a huge fight on Valentine’s Day. We couldn’t even remember the last time we had had a huge fight. It’s all just so silly.

So, yes, we’ve been married for almost 25 years (June 1 is the big day—you can start your planning now), and we still fight every now and then. Over some really important things.

Like hockey.

And Valentine’s Day.

So, how was YOUR Valentine's Day?