It’s the weekend before Valentine’s Day, and while I still say the whole thing is a sham
, I’ve been reminiscing lately about some of my husband’s more romantic gestures. My favorite was a book of “love coupons” to be redeemed for all the little things I enjoy; a date night at my favorite restaurant, a yoga class, a two-hour nap. I won’t embarrass him with sappy details, but it was lovingly curated and I kept it stored in my wallet for safekeeping until one day when I sadly left my purse in the car and returned to find it stolen. Despite the theft of several valuables, it was the book of coupons I was most heartbroken to lose. Six months later, I received a mysterious call from the Department of Transportation and was shocked to hear they found a backpack on the side of the highway filled with stolen wallets, including mine. Within days, a package arrived and I ripped it open to find my wallet intact with various membership cards (Blockbuster!), receipts, and pictures. But as I frantically searched its contents, I realized one crucial component was still missing: my love coupons
. To this day, I wonder who may have stumbled upon them, and though it makes me sad to think of them falling into the wrong hands, I enjoy warning my husband to watch out for a tall, dark stranger looking to cash in on a 30-minute foot rub.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetie. 😘