he loves me not, he loves me.

When I was seven, the boy I loved brought roses to school for my best friend because she was “prettier” than me and that’s the first Valentine’s Day memory I have stored in my brain.

And though that’s how most of my life went – February 14ths aplenty that didn’t include roses – they all pretty much ruled in comparison to that one.

Even last year, when my husband wanted us to watch a violent sequel on Netflix.

Moral of the story?

My kisses don’t even begin with Kay, so husband, you can stop freaking out. Basically just don’t give flowers to my prettier friends and we’re good!

And chocolate.


Spill it.

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