the sort of want that does not involve the commercialization of celebrating your significant other’s worth one day out of the year; the sort of want that is more than heart-shaped balloons, and “Be Mine” posters; the sort of want that comes from your smile, and the loud beep of your 5 a.m. text messages
I want us to be human, I want to argue, I want to hear about your Petty Officer yelling at you, about how you scream your last name with pride when there are only two people in the group, about your complaints of always being cold and hungry. I want stories of how you called your Shipmate “Four-eyes” and have your Petty Officer question you with those same four-eyes, of how being homesick gets into your bones, of how you get goose bumps when you watch the Niners play, of sleep-deprived Watches and Duty Days that make you fall asleep during muster, yet going about your daily grind because this is the path you chose, of how the tone of your voice changes from excitement to protective when you reveal too much of who you are, because these seemingly colorless moments are meaningful when filtered through the eyes of someone I care about. I want more than a Valentine’s Day… breathing sustenance into otherwise humdrum instances.
More than a Valentine’s Day is this: commuting to work knowing that someone cares whether or not you got enough sleep; understanding that you can wear your big thick glasses and have that person still think you’re adorable in a nerdy sort of way; of thinking you don’t have too much in common, but your conversations can be endless. More than a Valentine’s Day is when the ache of not seeing Her grows, but refusing to see anyone else because she is the only one you want; of when weekends, and weekdays are one and the same because all you do is wait for when you can see Her again. More than a Valentine’s Day can be directionless, where conversations can be mostly of each other saying “huh? What did you say? I can’t hear you” and what drives you to carry on.
…yeah… I want more than a Valentine’s Day.