On Valentine's Day in the year 1929, The South Side Italian Gang led by Al Capone massacred eight members of The North Side Irish Gang led by Bugs Moran. Capone's gang dressed as cops and arrested the Irish gang members, led them to a garage, lined them against the wall and brutally murdered the unarmed men. Upon finding the massacred gang members, a nearly dead victim was asked, "Who shot you" to which he replied, "Nobody shot me"...in spite of the 14 bullet holes.
That is not the Valentine's Massacre I am referring to. I love my wife and I hope she knows it. I am fairly certain she does. I regret to admit that I am not the most romantic guy, or so she says. I apparently lack romanticism. I didn't used to...I used to be quite the creative romantic. With that said, I buy her flowers at least a dozen times a year, I buy her gifts and take her to nice restaurants. Those things all seem romantic...don't they? Nonetheless, I know what she means and I have resigned myself to the fact that I am not that romantic.
Or am I? I love Pooh. I love her dearly. I have put much thought recently into the debate of whether I am or not romantic. I believe I am. I just show it in different ways. I will do anything I need to in order to provide for her and The Lou. Isn't that romantic. I take my role as their provider and protector very seriously and I do well at it. It is not by chance that they never go without; it is by design and the result of hard work and effort. Is that not romantic? I want nothing more in the world than her happiness and want to do that which I can to see her happy.
Pooh is an magnificent Wife and a wonderful Mother to The Lou. This Valentine's Day we will probably not do anything too surprising or romantic. Dinner, Chick Flick, games and a gift. Some may consider that The Valentine's Day Massacre, but I hope she knows I am happy to call her "My Valentine" the last ten years and for the eternities to come.