Yeah… don’t get your hopes up. I still hate the day (I have trouble calling it a holiday… Holiday means I get off work….).
I saw my first tulip sprouts of the season yesterday. Courtney says something is poking through in our own flower beds–I haven’t looked, but I did see daffodils poking through at the church. And I’m ready.
Courtney wrote a blog post about waiting the other day, and that seems the most apt of descriptions right now. Waiting on spring. Waiting for spring for the bees. Waiting for this pregnancy to be over (getting warmer, and my anxiety is nothing compared to Courtney’s). Waiting to figure out the living room furniture. Waiting to get the house done.
All that build up and anticipation to finish off the house pretty much died a month ago as though the turn of the calendar page turned over my ambition for it as well. I still have to finish mudding and painting the back room, but we’re pretty much there. Pretty much done. You’d think I’d get the energy up to just slam it out.
Hmm… This isn’t too much of a V-Day post, is it?
I just don’t get V-Day. I never have. I think I realized how pointless it was when, as a 15-year-old, I got talked into “dating” a girl. I wasn’t interested (she was), and I just wasn’t ready to do that. V-Day came around, though, and I knew that I was expected to do something. So I did. I took all the money I had earned doing odd jobs and what not and blew it on a simple heart-pendant necklace. It made her happy; I didn’t really care.
In fact, when her birthday rolled around three weeks later, I felt awful knowing that I would be expected again to come through… to express myself…. The obligation of it all made me feel just a little sick.
So I took the coward’s way out and wrote her a “it’s me, not you” letter.
On her birthday.
I didn’t even have the courage to give it to her face to face. Instead, I shoved it in her locker on my way out the door. What a birthday surprise that must have been.
Yeah…. I’d like to think that being 15 was an excuse, but I’ll readily admit that there’s a special place in hell for guys like me. But wouldn’t you want to know if you were in that situation? Wouldn’t you want to be free if you were in mine? The only real regret I have is that it took five months to put an end to it.
I learned a few things about love and life from that experience:
- For a relationship to work, I had to be committed. Duh, right? But it is still true. In retrospect, it made it easier for me to make that final love decision when the time came. If it wasn’t committed, I wouldn’t have asked.
- I have to ask. I don’t blame those who set up that failed relationship. We were all teens, all excited by our budding adulthood. Really, the only blame I would dare pass out would be my own for not having the courage to stop it earlier. I never felt like it was a good choice. She was a nice girl, we shared the same beliefs and standards, but other than that….
- I also learned to hate V-Day. Permanently.
I look back on that first fateful V-Day. The first time I ever felt obligated to “love.” She used the schools singing telegram fundraiser to send me a song. That’s What Friends Are For. I was sitting in Geometry in the front left corner. I can still remember the everlasting embarrassment. I was a freshman in an upper-level math class surrounded by sophomores, juniors, and seniors.
I wanted to die.
And then the wasted (sorry, what else can I call it?) money on a gift for her in return.
Sigh…. Is it any wonder that I hate the day?
That was the first and only V-Day I ever celebrated. Courtney understands, although I’ve never told her most of this stuff. In fact, I’m pretty sure this is the first I’ve EVER told anyone this stuff. Consider yourself privileged I guess.
I’ve always rationalized V-Day away (look, I don’t even use the full name…). The truth is that I don’t need a commercial holiday to celebrate the love I feel for my wife. And if I did need one, I have one. It’s called the anniversary of my wedding; a day infinitely more important and significant to me than Feb. 14.
Some have tried to get me to see reason, that it’s just another day that could be fun and enjoyable. Remember point 1 above? For it to work, I’d have to be committed to the day. I’d have to want to make it work.
I don’t, and your arguments won’t change that. I’ve heard them all.
At the end of the day, Courtney knows and understands my feelings, I know and understand hers, and we make it work.
So Bah Humbug…. 🙂
Hmmmm…. It’s apparent to me that we need an equivalent to Bah Humbug for V-Day…. Any suggestions?
Oh, and her name was Andrea. Every now and then, I wonder what became of her. Just morbid curiosity on my part I guess. And if it is any measure of redemption, every time her birthday rolls around, I still feel a twinge of deep shame for how I ended it. 🙂