Yale Theatrical Society

Dear Wilbur*

Since Valentine's Day is just around the corner, I thought I'd take this time to apologize about a certain day long ago on the fourteenth of February. We were in fifth grade and you had finally summed up the courage to tell me that you liked me. After months of sacrificing your turn to give me another chance at serving the ball in P.E. volleyball, after weeks of your name appearing on my family's caller I.D., and after days of your friends confronting me and asking me who I liked, you finally told me what I already knew. As the days passed happily by, I realized that Valentine's Day was coming up, and that I didn't have a clue if I was to give you something special. My friends were of no help, and so I eventually decided that I would give you one extra chocolate than I was giving everybody else. Just one.

Arriving to school that day with my box decorated with lacy hearts, I hesitantly pulled out my homemade Valentine cards. Everybody received two chocolates, one pin, and a card saying, "You're Just My Type." But you got three chocolates, a carefully made pin, and beautifully decorated card. Deciding that I'd give you your Valentine when you were not looking, I quickly smashed the present into your box (not nearly as pretty as mine), and ran off to tell my friends what I had just done. By the time I reached my own box, your present was already there; a huge bag of sweethearts wrapped with the prettiest bow I had ever seen. I remember there was a note attached, but I can't quite recall what was written. All I remember was the wave of sadness that washed over me because I had only given you one extra chocolate in the shape of a heart. However, that feeling did not last long when I saw that you had given two other girls the same Valentine as me. I then looked on the candy with disgust, and vowed never to eat a sweetheart again (however, the promise broken that very day). Instead of eating your gift, I ate a whole pack of gum that Carter* had given to me. That would teach you never to give three girls the same Valentine, especially when you told a certain girl that you liked her.

Now comes the part I regret, and the part where I should have apologized. Because on that same day, I chose Carter to be my Valentine. Not you. And to top it all off, Carter was your best friend and I consented to being his Valentine right in front of you. Your heart was broken, and so was mine. Because really, I wanted you to be my fifth grade Valentine.

Love,
Naomi

*name has been changed