When I was younger, I was convinced that February 29th was some kind of magical day. It only came around once every four years, so it had to be special right? I used to image how cool it would have been to be born on this day (though I ignored the fact that I would have to have been born a year and 19 days earlier). I used to pretend it was the day that some sort of veil between the realms would weaken and beings from elsewhere could cross through (I cut my teeth on fantasy at a young age).
Only later did I learn how it could be a topsy-turvy sort of day of love, where women could propose to their men instead of the other way around. To my impressionable young mind, this thrilled me. I was an independent sort, back then, and thought I would take this tradition to heart. That I’d been the one to do the proposing, and I’d make it romantic and magical and it would be awesome.
I know better now. I know that the veil is always thin, and that women can propose whenever the hell they want, and it doesn’t have to be to a man either. But I still celebrate this day with a sort of fondness, enjoying the crap out of it every time it comes around.
So do something special for yourself today. Just because you can.