There’s a subtle but real difference between “thrifty” and “cheap.”

Thrifty people check for discount codes before buying something online. Cheap people close checkout lines with their coupon schemes to get 25 free tubes of toothpaste. Thrifty people bring their pack a lunch for work. Cheap people are OK with leftovers from the trash as long as they’re “above the rim.”

When you’re trying to live a thrifty lifestyle, you sometimes wonder if you’ve gone a little too far. It’s usually tough to tell if you’re about to cross the line into cheap territory, but – very rarely – you arrive at a defining moment in your life. A point where you know that if you move forward, there’s no going back.

For me, that moment was February 15, 2011. Dalentine’s Day.

As self-proclaimed thrifty people, Deserae and I are not giant fans of Valentine’s Day. It’s a mostly made-up holiday where you feel obligated to spend money on fancy chocolate and heart-shaped junk. Plus, it’s impossible to find a seat at any restaurant that doesn’t have a cartoon mascot.

While dating, we observed Valentine’s Day every year just in case. Like, you don’t want to lose someone over a chocolate-covered strawberry, ya know? But when we got married, we decided to team up against Hallmark.

“Valentine’s Day is kind of stupid,” Deserae said one night at the beginning of February.

“I know it.”

“Like, flowers on Valentine’s Day are nice, but they’re way better when you get them for me when you’re not ‘supposed to.’”

“Yeah, they’re twice as expensive on Valentine’s Day too.”

Deserae looked up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s just not do it!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! We can celebrate our own Valentine’s Day the next day when flowers are cheaper!”

“And all the candy goes on sale!”

“YEAH!”

We spent the rest of the evening high-fiving each other for creating the world’s very first Dalentine’s Day. (We called it Dalentine’s Day because both of our names begin with “D” and we had already used the last of our collective creative energy on coming up with the holiday.) Our smugness, which grew each time we told someone about our plan, peaked on Dalentine’s Day Eve when all the other fools were running around buying expensive flowers.

When the alarm went off on February 15, we both popped out of bed.

“HAPPY DALENTINE’S DAY!”

We smooched and promised to meet back home after work with discounted tokens of our affection.

My first stop after work was Flowerama. The store looked like some one had run through it with a weedwhacker. I finally found what should have been the rose section, but instead seemed to be the “GARBAGE FLOWERS DO NOT SELL” section.

I finally found what should have been the rose section, but instead seemed to be the “GARBAGE FLOWERS DO NOT SELL” section.

“Excuse me, how much are your roses?” I asked a worker who was picking up junk from the floor.

“Six for $17.99,” she said without looking up.

“You didn’t lower the price after Valentine’s Day?”

“Nope.”

I looked back at the flowers.

“Do you have any more in the back?”

“Nope.”

The roses were beyond wilty. You know the schlubby guy who almost forgot about Valentine’s Day, but made it to Flowerama just before they closed and got the worst flowers they had because everything else had been picked over? These were the ones that he had passed up. I sighed, bought my garbage flowers and left for the grocery store.

Deserae LOVES chocolate-covered strawberries, so I was going to surprise her with a nice fresh batch from Giant Eagle. I walked back to the bakery. “Can I get six chocolate-covered strawberries, please?”

“We only make those for Valentine’s Day.”

“You don’t have any left?”

“Sorry, we sold out yesterday morning.”

I went to the grocery store next door. Same story. I went to another. Same. I called Malley’s, a giant chocolate factory that has probably 20 people working just on chocolate-covered strawberries.

Same.

Empty-handed, I finally gave up and stopped by Wal-Mart for a card and deeply discounted candy. Basically the only Valentine’s Day cards left were for step moms. The candy was still full price. I left with a heart-shaped piece of junk.

When I finally got home, Deserae was waiting for me with her gift. It was also a heart-shaped piece of junk. We agreed to never celebrate Dalentine’s Day again and left for Famous Dave’s, the only restaurant we had a coupon for.

Its mascot is a cartoon pig.

LIFE LESSON #55

If you start making up your own holidays to save a buck, you might be a cheapskate.