So! Happy Crock-of-Shit Day for all you lovers out there.

 

I fucking hate Valentine's Day. Ugh. I always have. I will admit that when I had a Valentine, I hated it less, but I still thought it was a day, a "holiday," which merited much eyerolling and teeth-gnashing. I usually wear black.

 

 

You could say I have a Valentine, and I have had one for about a decade now. The same one. The first year, he sucked as a Valentine. He was doing the whole, "I don't want a relationship" dance, and I was doing the clingy-whiny-female dance. The second Valentine's Day, he took me through the Whataburger drive-through (no I am not even kidding), and it was such an improvement from the year before that I was THRILLED (not kidding about that, either).

 

 

The third Valentine's Day, we had just moved in together. I had no expectations. I felt wry humor about the last couple of V-Days, so I was all, eh. I figured he would do a little something, like maybe bring me a flower. I did not expect him to sneak in our bedroom window and set up a big seduction scene, complete with candles and a dozen roses, and then sneak back out without me having a frigging CLUE out in the living room. Sneaky! And also, a bit scary that I did not notice a 275-pound man sneaking in and out my bedroom window! But Awwww! Flowers! And candles! And sneaky! How sweet!

The fourth Valentine's Day, I don't remember what he did. I'm sure I got flowers. He probably bought me candy, because that's totally what I needed. He tried, bless him. This time we lived on the second story, so there was no sneaking in and out of the window unless he had suddenly been able to morph into a superpower just for me. But NAY. We had just celebrated our anniversary the month before, and stayed at Swanky Resort, where he had one of his guys deliver roses to our room while we were having dinner. I'm sure he thought the sentiment would stretch. Even so, he seemed to like buying roses, so who knows. I appreciated it, but he never got the hint that I am really more of a daisy girl.

 

And so the Valentine's Days passed, the same way. Roses and cards. He was always very sweet. And then we broke up, or...I dunno, separated, whatever. So no roses. I found that I missed the roses. And the next year, I was in hell, and there were no roses there because nothing could grow, and if they were brought in, they just burned right up. My students had no problem giving each other little lovey-dovey notes and google-eyes and lo, there was much sighing, because they were twelve.

 

Last year, Kath threw an Anti-Valentine's Day party. Quite a few of us attended, but it was mostly girls. We all got drunk (hi Kath! how are you?) and finally left around 3am, with Katherine standing at the door shouting that we could not leave! We had to stay there forever! It was very fun.

 

 

And...that brings us to this year.

 

 

I talked to Randy yesterday, and he has today off, so his mom wants to take him shopping. I asked if I could hang out with him tonight to give my folks a little alone time (*blacks out what they might do with said alone time*) since today is Valentine's Day, and he said "oh yeah! Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. I completely forgot." He said he'll call me on his way home.

 

 

Meh. I might go over to my brother's house and let my nephew be my Valentine. Or I may just go home and stew in my bitterness, as Randy is spending Valentine's Day with his mother, who apparently is his real Twoo Wuv.

 

 

I AM wearing black today, after all. It's fitting.