One fateful St. Valentine's Night, I showed too much love. I prepared the most delectable dinner, set out the fine china on an old, English lace tablecloth, lit dripping candles all over the dinner table and in the bedroom, knowing he might come home just a little bit late. Well, an hour passed by, then two, then three. I couldn't stay awake at that point, so I gave up. I left the table set for proof of love's labor lost, but blew out candles and put away food. Needless to say, I never put forth that much effort again.