I love. You?

You love too don’t you?
How do you love?
That’s what I heard each time I was asked the question “How was your Valentine’s Day?”
Oh perception. It’s just small talk. Tiny talk for this week’s Monday. It is Tuesday, because there was a real holiday on Monday. But I am surprised how many times I am asked the question. I’m surprised how subtly it throws me off balance.

It’s such a potential minefield of a question. Like making gestational assumptions about a woman’s girth. That is news best left to the teller as to whether to share and when. Maybe I carry too many toxic tales. I’ve loved badly. I’ve loved well. Intentions are moot. It’s an innocuous enough question. But it could easily come with a trigger warning.
And with every question comes a chain reaction.
It was nice. How was yours? It was nice, how was yours? It was nice.
It is a revelation. So many people are getting this love thing right.
What is wrong with me?
It reminds me of middle school when the tally of valentines set up yet another self-worth moment to navigate in the obstacle course of adolescence.

There are no revelations in the various answers. No secrets to secure undying love. Only nice, tidy summations.
Stories of the heart are tangled tales. There isn’t time in our bite sized interactions to do them justice.

The Valentine’s dialogue needs to shift. I want to rephrase the question.
How is your heart?
Are you taking care of it?
The answer is gorgeously succinct. A simple yes or no. Further details are up to the individual. Imagine the power to pause and do a status check on that fist sized muscle that is the center of us. How empowering to
reply honestly, yes all is well or no, I can do better. Because self love is the foundation for all love. Be your own valentine. Ask the question of yourself first. Are you well loved? Are you loving well?

February 14 was nice. There was a revelation. I attended a belly-dancing workshop. All the participants were women. I learned that its history in certain Arab countries was rooted in reverence for the feminine. Initially the dance was by women, for women. In their gatherings women danced to celebrate the female form and prepare the body for childbirth. Long before it was eroticized it was an empowering expression of self love.

Love well, but first things first.