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Every year at this time I write about how much I love Valentines Day. So, Ill say it again: I love Valentines Day. I know that it is one of those holidays that some of us girls absolutely hate for various reasons, and others just adore. I would certainly count myself among the latter.

Unfortunately, Valentines Day is one of those events that feels like it only applies in full to couples. Its different when youre younger of course, but into the teenage years and beyond, the day beings to take on a supplementary amount of hatred or glee, depending on who you are. I know that, personally, exchanging mini Snickers bars and cardboard Pooh valentines with my friends in the 11th grade just didnt feel all that romantic. I was one of those girls who wanted my own Valentine (in the form of a cute boy, please), but I pretty much was well aware that it wasnt going to happen. At least not that year, anyway.

After years of being the girl who wanted but never received, college has been kinder to me in terms of my February fourteenths. So now, Im making up for all those roses and caramel creams and cards that I never got. And my boyfriend knows it.

Lets get something clear. A girl does not have to be a gold digger who never brings her wallet to dinner in order to get what she wants. While I am by no means a feminist with a capital F, I dont always play by 1950s style rules where all the chick brings to the relationship is a pretty face and fantastic laundry skills. I have paid for my share of dates. Ive made trips to Gordons and lugged out a cart full of beer that was clearly not for my own imbibing purposes. I cant handle dirty jokes and crude humor like a guy. The line has to be drawn somewhere, girls, and for me, that line is V-day.

My boyfriend and I have been together for well over a year now, and I feel as though that is time enough for me to be able to get what I want. Sorry guys, but us females have been known to put up with a whole lot from you at times, as this is the time when we deserve to be treated like princesses in all 1950s-style senses of the word. Ive waited long enough. Now that Im finally in a place where mid-February isnt going to be yet another flowerless disappointment, I want something good.

Ok, I dont mean that I want diamonds and a bedroom covered in rose petals. (Well, one day it would be nice, but not this time around.) I just mean that I want the card in the pink envelope, I want the bows and the little boxes and the candy that makes us girls feel loved and, well… girly. Ive spent enough time in the past year in ripped jeans with a can in my hand and Afromans Crazy Rap playing in the background. I have no problem with that, but now it is time for some classic, old-school romance.

So what did I do? I told my boyfriend what I wanted for Valentines Day, and hes getting it for me. True, perhaps not the most romantic gesture in the world, but at least I know Im getting what I want. And when Im happy, hes happy. And hey, thats romantic. In an old-school-with-a-feminist- twist kind of way. Feminist with a lowercase f, of course.