Valentine’s Day, an artificial holiday conceived by Hallmark and 1-800-Flowers, is without a doubt the worst day in my relationship history. Let’s take a look over the last – oh – 15 years, shall we?
2-14-2003 – I flew to St. Louis to visit not one, but two, individuals professing their undying devotion. After spending a few days with each of them, I realized one would never be right for me, and that the other had long decided I would never be right for him. They both loved me, but there was no long term relationship there. Check off one, and two.
2-14-2006 – Gabriel, one of the main characters in my book, had made all the plans for us. He would show up at my front door, and we would take off cross country like two wild, impetuous lovers, to spend the rest of our lives together. Not only did he not show up, he had never planned to do so.
2-14-2008 – 2-13-2011 – A first date with Bastardo(TM), a Match.com blind date. An incredible evening – the best first date EVER. He ended it three years later, the DAY BEFORE our 3rd year anniversary, saying our relationship wasn’t “E-Z enough”.
2-14-2018 – About six months after Bastardo(TM) walked away, I met someone else, also on Match. I’ve called him “my friend who’s a boy” because at our age, calling someone a “boyfriend” just sounds silly. And since, in seven years, he has never made a move to be anything else, that’s as good a moniker as any. The last eighteen months have gotten more and more difficult, but I kept thinking our love for one another would carry us through. I mean, SEVEN years together. But we returned from his condo in Florida on January 26 after a strained month together, and by February 10 I hadn’t had an email, text, or call. Flowers arrived on February 13, and a beautiful, sentimental card on February 14, but neither offered explanations or asked for a do-over, just that he would “love me forever and ever”.
And so, as the song says, another one bites the dust. And I’ve had it. I’ve loved, and been loved by, some remarkable men, but sixty-eight years later, I’m as alone today as the day I was born. I’ve decided to spend the last 15-20 years (fingers crossed) of life being my own person. I’m going to do the things I want to do, go where I want to go, wear the clothes I want to wear, cut or grow my hair as I please, dance, read, play the piano, watch movies that move me, and express my own opinions – without the disapproving looks or negative commentary from someone who is supposed to love and respect me.
And should there ever be someone who wants to come along on that ride, with those rules, there’s always another Valentine’s Day.