“I want love to walk right up and bite me,
grab a hold of me and fight me,
leave me dying on the ground…
I wont let love disrupt, corrupt, or interrupt me anymore.”
Yeah right, who am I kidding?
It’s that time again. It is no wonder I should get an ‘S’ branded on my forehead to signify the fact I am single, and act as a warning to ‘the masses’ that they should read lightly and not go over the top in my presence over this holiday that starts with the letter ‘V,’ (any holiday for that matter), or brandish any gratuitous ‘pity face’ for my sole benefit.
Can we really even call ‘Valentine’s Day’ a holiday? Banks are open, and it’s not like anyone gets the day off work.
Of course, as the time approaches I am squirming a little yet again. Rolling my eyes at the entire aisles in shops dedicated to this particular non-holiday and the unwelcome reminder that in the past I haven’t exactly had the greatest track record with this particular celebration, as the last time I attempted to gift someone a token of my affection, just stood there like a stumped game-show contestant, poked at the goods, offered them back to me, rendering me crushed and feeling like a ginormous ass. Needless to say the cheap bastard was my boyfriend at the time, and he never gave me anything other than a text message greeting, and fore mentioned dose of humiliation at my thoughtful gesture.
And this year? Well, there is at least one specimen of the male gender walking this planet that remains to be quite fond of yours truly. One whom has admitted such in no uncertain terms (on occasion accompanied by the word ‘awesome’), thus far he has respected my privacy and NOT read this blog, despite knowing it’s title and my ‘nome di plume.’ As an added bonus – he is not an ex that has recently crawled out from under a rock. However, at this juncture it would be awkward to make any-sized deal out of this quasi-holiday, and at least for me it’s enough to know that after maintaining almost daily contact in some one-dimensional form for over 5 months, he is finally getting on a plane in 6 weeks and flying over the ocean to meet me in the big city in order to spend a few days in each other’s company and get better acquainted. A gesture of epic scale, one might think.
So despite V Day’s over-inflated importance due to its grand contribution to massive consumerism, from here forth I shall turn the other cheek and avoid the garishness of the masses’ collective ideas on real LOVE (and tokens of such), and look forward to bigger and more important events in the near future.
And if by some chance all were to fail, and my plans were to be reduced to a metaphorically dented and discarded heart-shaped box full of stale,
crushed chocolate candy?
I could always wander the streets handing out bags of these,
or simply throw them piece by piece at single men…
(If I don’t eat them all myself first.)
Let the countdown begin.