Sit Back and Let the Evening Go
Valentine's Day approaches, it's pastel pinks and reds a threatening blur in the near distance. The masochists came up with this one, forcing half-hearted lovers to demonstrate their undying commitments with unnecessarily fancy dinners and material goods. And let's not forget about the many of us Eleanor Rigby's who need to be reminded just how alone we really are in this world.
To date I've only celebrated Valentine's Day once with someone I loved. Well, twice, but we'll get to that second one in a minute, as I was not loved in return and that can hardly count as celebrating the holiday. My first and only Valentine's Day celebration occurred in 1999. Prior to February 14th of that year, Valentine's Day usually meant my underwear drawer would grow a bit fuller with a pair of thematic boxers and my belly would grow fuller with M&Ms or Hershey's Kisses, all sent to me by my mother, whose love I much appreciate, albeit it may not be the particular sort of love I seek on V-Day. 1999 was different. I had started dating Ronda in January and things had moved somewhat quickly. Unfortunately she was still clearing up the emotional mess of two previous boyfriends and I had merely sidestepped the yellow caution blockades, slipping and sliding around her fragile heart.
Because I had never really done the dating thing all that much, and because I was a poor graduate student living on loans and Teaching Assistant wages, I did not make reservations for us at a fancy restaurant with heartshaped hot tubs or whatever it is they do at those places. Instead I wanted to take Ronda to my favorite Thai restaurant up near Braker and Lamar, a sorely missed epicurian delight that closed down a few years later. They had a terrific buffet (okay, I know there are some of you who already recognize how unromantic buffet eating can be, but they did decorate the restaurant a bit for V-Day and, more importantly, I was with the woman I loved).
We had a good time at dinner and the food was excellent, but I couldn't help but note a passing comment from Ronda making fun of the ambience. I'd failed the test. To make matters worse, after we returned to her place, we got into a fight. I don't even recall what about. Perhaps she was disappointed by my gifts , which included a bouquet I picked up at Fiesta around the corner from her house and a book of my poetry I had inscribed with all sorts of loving thoughts. Yes, mistakes two and three. Nobody had ever warned me about this, and Ronda was not your average golddigging woman out to get some bling. Still, I now know that even the most down-to-earth, budget-conscious woman wants a night of extravagance and unfettered romance on that cursed day.
We made up and had great sex and went to bed. The relationship unraveled, causing me great pain at a time where I most needed to focus on finishing up my graduate school work. I was in a funk for months. I believe I've written before about getting back together with her, then spending the summer in Brazil and losing her gradually to the man she now calls her husband. So it goes.
My only other special Valentine's Day was last year. In a last ditch effort to overwhelm Daniel with my passionate feelings for him, I worked non-stop on the song I was writing for/about him, now titled My Virgo Valentine. I recorded a sloppy first take and tried to send it to him via email so that he would receive it for V-Day, but his email access was very very slow and he was unable to download it. He and I chatted while I was at work that morning and at one point I mentioned that he probably would not make it to work on time if he was taking the bus. I ended up leaving work to pick him up where he was staying and dropped him off at his job. He was grateful, although I managed to bother him by trying to rehash my feelings once again. He had nothing left to say about it. Still, for some reason known only to him, he kissed me sweetly on the lips before going into his job. I told him I really wanted to give him this gift and would try to catch him after work. I went home and burned a CD with two versions of my song: one in WAV format, the other in MP3 format. I called him later and made plans to see him after work. On my way out the door, I grabbed an already opened box of chocolate truffles that I brought along, just so he would have some chocolate on Valentine's Day. I gave him the CD and the chocolates. He was touched in a peculiar manner, as he really wanted to be loved that day, but not by me.
I had hoped the song, which contains the rawest emotions I could possibly summon, would be too honest for him to ignore and would lead him back into my arms. Even if only for a night. It was never to pass.
To date I've only celebrated Valentine's Day once with someone I loved. Well, twice, but we'll get to that second one in a minute, as I was not loved in return and that can hardly count as celebrating the holiday. My first and only Valentine's Day celebration occurred in 1999. Prior to February 14th of that year, Valentine's Day usually meant my underwear drawer would grow a bit fuller with a pair of thematic boxers and my belly would grow fuller with M&Ms or Hershey's Kisses, all sent to me by my mother, whose love I much appreciate, albeit it may not be the particular sort of love I seek on V-Day. 1999 was different. I had started dating Ronda in January and things had moved somewhat quickly. Unfortunately she was still clearing up the emotional mess of two previous boyfriends and I had merely sidestepped the yellow caution blockades, slipping and sliding around her fragile heart.
Because I had never really done the dating thing all that much, and because I was a poor graduate student living on loans and Teaching Assistant wages, I did not make reservations for us at a fancy restaurant with heartshaped hot tubs or whatever it is they do at those places. Instead I wanted to take Ronda to my favorite Thai restaurant up near Braker and Lamar, a sorely missed epicurian delight that closed down a few years later. They had a terrific buffet (okay, I know there are some of you who already recognize how unromantic buffet eating can be, but they did decorate the restaurant a bit for V-Day and, more importantly, I was with the woman I loved).
We had a good time at dinner and the food was excellent, but I couldn't help but note a passing comment from Ronda making fun of the ambience. I'd failed the test. To make matters worse, after we returned to her place, we got into a fight. I don't even recall what about. Perhaps she was disappointed by my gifts , which included a bouquet I picked up at Fiesta around the corner from her house and a book of my poetry I had inscribed with all sorts of loving thoughts. Yes, mistakes two and three. Nobody had ever warned me about this, and Ronda was not your average golddigging woman out to get some bling. Still, I now know that even the most down-to-earth, budget-conscious woman wants a night of extravagance and unfettered romance on that cursed day.
We made up and had great sex and went to bed. The relationship unraveled, causing me great pain at a time where I most needed to focus on finishing up my graduate school work. I was in a funk for months. I believe I've written before about getting back together with her, then spending the summer in Brazil and losing her gradually to the man she now calls her husband. So it goes.
My only other special Valentine's Day was last year. In a last ditch effort to overwhelm Daniel with my passionate feelings for him, I worked non-stop on the song I was writing for/about him, now titled My Virgo Valentine. I recorded a sloppy first take and tried to send it to him via email so that he would receive it for V-Day, but his email access was very very slow and he was unable to download it. He and I chatted while I was at work that morning and at one point I mentioned that he probably would not make it to work on time if he was taking the bus. I ended up leaving work to pick him up where he was staying and dropped him off at his job. He was grateful, although I managed to bother him by trying to rehash my feelings once again. He had nothing left to say about it. Still, for some reason known only to him, he kissed me sweetly on the lips before going into his job. I told him I really wanted to give him this gift and would try to catch him after work. I went home and burned a CD with two versions of my song: one in WAV format, the other in MP3 format. I called him later and made plans to see him after work. On my way out the door, I grabbed an already opened box of chocolate truffles that I brought along, just so he would have some chocolate on Valentine's Day. I gave him the CD and the chocolates. He was touched in a peculiar manner, as he really wanted to be loved that day, but not by me.
I had hoped the song, which contains the rawest emotions I could possibly summon, would be too honest for him to ignore and would lead him back into my arms. Even if only for a night. It was never to pass.