In 1991, I was in luurrrvvveee with Fran N. Deeply, deeply in love. I was in the 5th grade, and Mrs. McCullough played Cupid and seated Fran and I next to each other in class, and God, it was beautiful.
In late February, BFFs Erin, Marie, and I began preparing for our first boy-girl dance. Fran prominent in my mind, we shopped for cute outfits. I just knew my hot pink leggings and flowery top (which billowed out into a skirt, like, how hot is that?) were enough to entice the object of my affection. And lo, on March 9th, in the St. Gabriel's church hall, Fran asked me to dance! Three times! To the strains of Jodeci's "Forever My Lady", I felt my heart swell. In May, Lisa Moore would mouth to Fran "Will you go out with her?" as we sat bored in Mass, and Fran would, um, nod his assent, strong silent type that he was. We would then speak twice on the phone in the next six months, and then my love would unceremoniously dump me that October as he played football in the schoolyard.
But glorious, glorious March 9th was The Greatest Day in My 11 Year-Old Life. Thus, I declared it "Love Day" as I day-dreamed in my bedroom at Dad's house. I proceeded to cut out pink construction paper hearts and scribble "LOVE DAY. MARCH 9th" on each of those hearts, throwing them around the bedroom, humming to myself.
Happy Love Day, y'all.