My wife taught me to appreciate romance — but I make these chocolate-covered strawberries for myself

Valentine's Day was never a complex sale for me; I always understood the power of love and the commercial marketing attached to it. My elementary school teachers never had to bribe me into making "I Love You" cards from my mom, and they would always blush when I asked for a little extra construction paper so that I could create cards for some of the girls at my school. "I don't think you need to make cards for three different girls in this class," Miss Reynolds said to a young, confused 2nd-grade me, with sad eyes that peered over her square frames. Caron was the one who inspired me to overspend on that box of Venus et Fleur roses that never die, get matching tattoos, and be extra corny by whipping up heart-shaped pancakes and scribing custom love letters instead of trusting the greeting card writers who work for Hallmark. We need your help to stay independent Subscribe today to support Salon's progressive journalism So, on Valentine's Day, I always try to surprise her with a nice non-traditional date: a trip to a restaurant we've never been to, or something prepared by Chef Me and the most beautiful flowers I can find.