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We don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day in my house.  Well, that’s not entirely true: we celebrate it all year round.

But this Valentine’s Day isn’t your average hearts-and-roses-and-chocolate-sampler kind of a day.  This one is special.

You see, I’ve had a few proposals in the past week (and my husband is good with that). They haven’t come in florist boxes or those wee baby-blue boxes from a well-known jeweler; they’ve come in phone calls and emails.  And they haven’t really come for me, but rather for the woman who lives in my head.

Her name?

Daniela Francesca Jones.

Danny Jones, as she’s known to her friends, is a tough character to fall in love with.  I made her like that in a Frankensteinian-Pygmalionesque sort of a way.  I cobbled her together from pieces of life, drew her with words on index cards and chicken-scratched notes in a tiny notebook with the word “Trouble” on its front cover (that was an accident).  I gave her some bad times, some good times, and some out-of-this-world times.  I even bought her an 865-cc Triumph Bonneville T100 as a Christmas prezzie.  That’s rather like a rocket on two wheels.  Hey, she earned it.

And, much like Pygmalion did with his lovely Galatea, I fell in love with Danny.  (My husband is okay with this, too.)

In a crazy fast whirlwind of serendipity, Danny’s turned a few other heads.  I’m not jealous.  I can share her.  I can do that because she’s worth sharing.

So…on this day of love and hearts and chocolate, the woman who lives in my head is considering proposals from some very worthy suitors.  I don’t envy her the decision, and I’m sorry the bigamy laws will force her to choose only one.

I know she’ll make the right choice.  After all, I made her that way.

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