Cold, Cold Heart

I'm happy to be in the office.

I completely forgot it was Valentine's Day today. Alex and I started talking about it once we got out of the car, because I don't think either of us remembered until then.

I've never liked Valentine's Day. I think I did when I was really young—we had a Valentine's Day party when I was four, and I swear I still remember it as one of the best parties I ever had. I asked my mother for another one for years. But generally, Valentine's Day was yet another occasion for me to be snubbed by my peers.

A story: I got flowers once. I think about the story every Valentine's Day.

I was 17, in an on-again, off-again relationship. I didn't know, but he was the only person I ever dated that my sister also liked.

He sent me a dozen roses. They showed up the day after Valentine's Day. I was stunned.

So was my sister--I think she was devastated. My sister is cranky, but she's not overly emotional. But she stormed out of the house sobbing. I didn't know what to do. She didn't want to ruin a nice thing for me, but I was hurt that she was hurt. I'd never seen her that upset.

They'd promised him that they'd show up on Valentine's Day. No guarantee they'd be red, the people said. So he got them for free. I don't think I'd even called him on the day. When I got the flowers, I called. I told him he must have thought me ungrateful. He said nah... thought you were busy. How could I be too busy to call and thank you for flowers? I asked.

I've never gotten flowers for Valentine's Day since. I've requested otherwise--please don't get me flowers, I don't want them.

There's a female status thing about getting flowers on valentine's day. There is a sense of winning I suppose. So part of me yes, wants flowers. But I guess I just always was aware of the price. Part of me still associates the day with hurting my sister. My sister is the person I respect most in this world--I am often in awe of her strength and kindness. To me, that kind of winning isn't worth it.

Another story: My ex Javier--now a good friend--and I agreed not to do anything for Valentine's Day one year. All his coworkers were women. They asked him:
--What are you doing for Valentine's Day?
--Nothing. Kyrce said she doesn't want anything.
This was correct. I had told him this. We lived too far from a White Castle to enact our fantasy of getting a linen tablecloth, silverware and a bud vase, taking it to a there, and having a romantic dinner of mini cheeseburgers (we talked about this every year for hours on end....)

His coworkers went ballistic:
--What do you mean, she doesn't want anything? Don't you know when she says she doesn't want anything, she doesn't mean it?

This was incorrect. However, they insisted on driving him to Wal Mart, and he desperately fumbled for something, anything!

I think he may possibly have gotten me candles and deodorant. They were offended by the deodorant. I was happy: we were poor, and I was almost out.

He told me later that Wal Mart on Valentine's Day was like the day before Christmas... except all the shoppers were men, with glazed, panicked, hunted looks. When he got home, I was touched but a bit put out. I hadn't gotten him anything. Wasn't that the agreement. He told me the story, and we had a good laugh about it.

Afterward, he turned to me and said:
--You really would have been happy with nothing, wouldn't you?
--Yes. Yes, I would. But I appreciate that you got something.
He nodded.
--Thought so. But they wouldn't believe me.
We decided the story was worth it.

My most recent boyfriend dumped me Sunday night--Sunday before Valentine's Day--at 10:45ish, no less, when all my support people were asleep. Of course, he's so dense that the same day he also posted on his facebook that he was trying to "practice random acts of small kindness" as to what he was doing. Must be real small. That made me laugh.

I'd be angrier--I was angrier, that night, got to call him lots of choice, deserved, names--if I weren't so relieved. Once I got past my feelings of foolishness for believing his lies--if they were lies, most likely yes, but honestly I think he's so confused I wouldn't be surprised if even he didn't know--I just felt sorry for him. And a sense that I'd escaped something awful.

Another story: Everyone knows my favorite color is green. It's pathetically obvious. When we first started dating, he told me his favorite color was green too. About a month later, we had this conversation:
--At work, we were talking about our favorite colors. And people said pink is a girly color.
--Yeah, that's one of the reasons it annoys me. The whole Barbie thing.
--I told them pink was my favorite color. I like women... women like pink... I like pink.
--Makes sense. But I thought green was your favorite color.
--Oh I like green a lot.
--But your favorite color is pink.
--Yes. And black. Pink and black.
--Oh. Okay.
In truth, I never saw that much evidence that he liked green at all, but meh. I mean, who cares if you have the same favorite color, really? I don't. But it always bothered me. And when I found out it was all just... lies, him "trying to make things work" by trying to tell me what he thought I wanted to hear, well, stuff like that finally made sense.

And I'm relieved.

Relieved I'm not in relationship constructed on what I want to hear, not any reality.
Relieved I didn't spend more time than I did on the fantasy.
Relieved to be able to move on to something more real.
Relieved to have one more Valentine's Day
Single
Where I don't have to
Worry about
Flowers.