Another Hallmark Day, another reason to shoot myself in the head.
Okay, so I hate Valentine's Day. I have always hated Valentine's Day. Four years ago, I decided Feb 14 was Halloween and dressed up as Daria. I dunno, I've just always been one of those people who believes that we should show our loved ones we appreciate them more regularly than once a year.
Now I can appreciate that it's one of those "excuses" holidays, just like Mother's Day and Father's Day are an excuse to do something nice for your parents. I can. And last year, Adam and I compromised and just gave cards. Not really though because he couldn't find a card in the tiny Alpian town he was working in at the time, so gave me a necklace.
This year, I finally and for the first time ever agreed to celebrate the holiday. Our ballroom dance class is having a Valentines party instead of the usual rigourous waltz instruction. We're dressing up and going out to dinner. And when he asked what we wanted to do about giving stuff, I told him we should stick to cards and if he wanted to give me flowers, he could. And I swear he agreed to that.
But yesterday, with the arrival of a package that I wasn't allowed to open, I found out he's broken the rules. Like big time. And he's gotten me something like four presents. Leaving me, with no means of transportation that doesn't involve him, and very few businesses in our village that sell anything other than food, totally stranded. I told him I'm still not giving him anything, and he got all sad. He'd conveniently "forgotten" our arrangement.
Now what do I do? What does one get a man for Valentine's Day anyway? It's not exactly an appropriate occasion to buy him the requisite tie. And it's too late to shop online, and if I wait till he's gone to uni on a day I'm not working and beg his mom to take me, we're looking at Monday. The day before the day. And with his mom there, it's not like I can buy underwear.
I know he's always wanted me to write him poetry, but I haven't written poetry fullstop since like 2004. And it's always so much easier to write poetry about someone who's screwing you over than about someone who's absolutely perfect. I mean, I already got him a cheesy card; I don't need to come up with the contents of another one...
Help? (Bernie, this especially means you.)
Now I can appreciate that it's one of those "excuses" holidays, just like Mother's Day and Father's Day are an excuse to do something nice for your parents. I can. And last year, Adam and I compromised and just gave cards. Not really though because he couldn't find a card in the tiny Alpian town he was working in at the time, so gave me a necklace.
This year, I finally and for the first time ever agreed to celebrate the holiday. Our ballroom dance class is having a Valentines party instead of the usual rigourous waltz instruction. We're dressing up and going out to dinner. And when he asked what we wanted to do about giving stuff, I told him we should stick to cards and if he wanted to give me flowers, he could. And I swear he agreed to that.
But yesterday, with the arrival of a package that I wasn't allowed to open, I found out he's broken the rules. Like big time. And he's gotten me something like four presents. Leaving me, with no means of transportation that doesn't involve him, and very few businesses in our village that sell anything other than food, totally stranded. I told him I'm still not giving him anything, and he got all sad. He'd conveniently "forgotten" our arrangement.
Now what do I do? What does one get a man for Valentine's Day anyway? It's not exactly an appropriate occasion to buy him the requisite tie. And it's too late to shop online, and if I wait till he's gone to uni on a day I'm not working and beg his mom to take me, we're looking at Monday. The day before the day. And with his mom there, it's not like I can buy underwear.
I know he's always wanted me to write him poetry, but I haven't written poetry fullstop since like 2004. And it's always so much easier to write poetry about someone who's screwing you over than about someone who's absolutely perfect. I mean, I already got him a cheesy card; I don't need to come up with the contents of another one...
Help? (Bernie, this especially means you.)