My mom and I are both ENFPs. If you're not hip to the whole personality test culture, that means we're the same. We communicate in much the same ways, and we respond the same way to the attitudes and actions of others.
On her blog, she wrote about how she reacted to, and how her personality was moulded by, the actions of others during the Valentine's Days of her youth. The cruelty or forgetfulness of others caused her to need the romance and generosity of her husband on Valentine's Day like a tortoise need it's shell. It also caused her to become a regular and generous gift giver to the people she loves.
This is the story of one such Valentine's gift.
I wasn't much of a ladies man in high school (vis the picture above). In fact, I had a pretty serious self esteem problem. My Grandmother tells me of a time when I was a little boy and she said to me, "Oh Freddy! You're so handsome." As she recalls it, I replied, "Thank you Grandma, but that's okay. I know I'm ugly." Pretty pitiful, eh?
I desired to be liked by girls and to get the same attention from them that I perceived other boys were receiving. That's why when a bouquet of balloons, tied to a package of chocolates, and addressed to me appeared in the drive-thru window of the Dairy Queen where I worked, I thought I had finally become a ladies' man.
The note attached read:
"Dear Fred,
I love you!
Love,
Your Secret Admirer"
Oh the joy! Oh the sweet terror! Oh the flush of blood, dear reader, that filled every corpuscle in my face, neck and head! Some red-blooded (hopefully pretty) teenage girl admired me secretly! I couldn't be expected to make sundaes or mix Blizzards®! We would soon be together. We would hold our perspiring hands. Within days, even hours, of her mylar advance, we would share our first kiss!
But who is she? Is she Maya, the soccer playing cheerleader who works beside me making shakes and cones? She discovered the package. Nah. She hates me. Seriously, she does. What about Carrie from youth group? I think she might like me. But she lives in Washington. You wouldn't know her. And she doesn't have a license so she couldn't have come all the way down here for this. What about Angela? or Jenna?
Ho, but I was frustrated. My joy was turning to anger as I began to imagine that this was some kind of trick! It was probably brought by one of my buddies as a joke, or by one of mine enemies to torture and humiliate me. And the girls at the DQ kept asking, "Who is it, Fred? Who is your girlfriend?"
I was beginning to hate this bloody valentine! I dragged it home with me that night, despising the sound the balloons made as they thrashed one another in the wind. When I got home, I ripped the candy off the strings and let the balloons float to the ceiling in our split level entryway, and retreated to my bedroom to brood.
The next morning I heard my sister bubbling with excitement over the Valentine's balloons floating in the entryway. "Who are they for? Are they from a GIIIIRRRRELLLLL?" I crashed up the stairs where my mother and sister were waiting, grins grinning, waiting to hear my explanation.
I reached over the railing and grabbed the strings. I quickly pulled each balloon to my chest and clumsily burst them all. "It's just a stupid trick," I raged. "No girl likes me."
That's when I saw the look of hurt, not pity, flash across my mother's face.
To this day, I'm not very concerned with Valentine's Day. My wife isn't either. We may make a date to a restaurant during that week and one of us may pick up a card if it's convenient. We have our own little romantic events that we revere, but February 14th is just not that important to us.
But my Mom still sends Valentine's cards. She brings gifts for my kids. And each time we meet, she lets me know how much she loves me.
My mother may never again pretend to be my secret admirer. I guess that is what caused all the confusion in the first place. You see, I already knew she admired me. That was NEVER a secret.
Happy belated Valentine's Day.
The Chindo
