Valentine’s Day has a different meaning for each one of us. For my eight-year old, it means buying a rose for the boy she likes in third grade, and hoping he likes her back. I hope so too, for her sake. For my 11-year old, nothing yet, or so she says. For my de-facto stepson, nine, writing the names of all his classmates on little boxes of candy, to give out in school. For my single friends the day reminds them how lucky they are to be unattached and not have to put up with the antics of their loved one. Or it could be a time of longing to be loved and appreciated by a special someone who, in their minds, is perfect—because he exists only in their imagination. For my partner, it’s a day like any other. He’s a guy after all.