Post-Mortem
Stamped: February 15th, 2007 | Toggle Similar
Tagged: No Tags.
There. It’s over. I hope you all survived.
It would seem that I’ve become just as cynical as the rest of the married-too-long-to-give-a-shit V-Day haters. I wasn’t always this way, though. I used to be wrapped up in the over-commercialized anticipation and romanticism of gilded love just as much as the next fool hearted woman. And perhaps a better relationship might still be laden with romanticism eight years, two kids, a mortgage and three dead gerbils later. But not this one. I suppose the fact that we haven’t killed or at least severely maimed one another does speak volumes about our love. Hallmark simply can’t top that.
My distaste for Valentine’s Day started only a couple of years ago and I’m still coming to terms with my cynicism. I've always been a giver, but unfortunately, it's become too disheartening due to a lack of reciprocation and so I've let those inner yearnings to be romantically exuberant fall by the wayside. Letting go of wanting to be indulged and pampered has been more difficult than I anticipated. Truth is, I’ve never had a real reason to hate Valentines. I’ve also never been single. Let me be the first to point out that my never having been single has less to do with being some sort of extraordinarily awesome chic that any man would give his left nut to be with, and more to do with the fact that I’ve got self-esteem issues which demand I cling on to any two-legged able-bodied being who will have me. Um, that’s not to say that I’ve ever been desperate. As pretentious as it may sound (and I know it does), I’ve never been single long enough to become desperate. From the time I was fifteen years old there has always been some poor schmuck waiting in the wings who I could give my heart to, be it blinded by stupidity or not. Pseudo-love evolved purely from stupidity was an unfortunate repeat offense by yours truly.
Now that I’m actually thinking about it, maybe that’s part of the reason I’ve adopted this Debbie Downer attitude towards le jour de l'amour. I’ve had many “Our First Valentines”. I’ve been given pounds and pounds of chocolate (which I still carry around my thighs and ass to this day), dozens of flowers and so many frickin’ cards that I should probably feel more guilty about all the poor trees that have perished. But where did those gift bestowing relationships get me? Heartache. Divorce. Tears. Yah, no thank you. Maybe it’s not so much that I’ve grown cynical, maybe I’ve grown to realize that I don’t need those things in order for a man to prove his love to me. I have been down that road and, in the long run, none of those gifts mattered. It could be (yes, perhaps!) that after seventeen or so years of relationships I finally get that.
Wow. That was a brilliant attempt at delusion.
Fine. Yes, I still crave thoughtful and romantic gestures on a day that has become more about proving ones love rather than embodying it. But what I consider to be romantic now is a little different from what it used to be. Flowers are still wonderful, yes. Sentimental rhymes mass produced on card stock, okay, can still make me smile. But what I really want (what most women want) are the simple and often cost free gestures that let me know without any shred of doubt I am loved: take the time to cook a dinner that doesn’t come from a box. Offer to do all the dishes without bitching. Light a few candles. And then eat me out until I can’t breath anymore without expecting a blow job in return. If more men (my man) could do that then they would have Valentines in the bag without so much as a Hershey Kiss needing to be tossed in.
Plus, with that sort of effort, they're nearly guaranteed to still get that blow job.
As it stands now, there were no flowers, no chocolates, no homemade dinner, no candles and certainly no midnight buffet at the Y. In the 2007 match up between Valentines Day versus Cynicism, cynicism won by a landslide.
Last 5 posts by JB
- Happy Anniversary - June 21st, 2007
- decision 2007: dildo fantasies vs. honesty - June 14th, 2007
- Intermission - June 7th, 2007
- Yoni, up close and personal - May 31st, 2007
- My friend Karma - May 24th, 2007
Um, er, well… say we were dating or married or something and it was Valentine’s Day and I didn’t cook you dinner or give you a massage, I didn’t light candles or, “eat you out,” as it were, but say I just remembered it was Valentine’s Day on the way home from the factory at about 5:35. p.m., so I stopped into the 7 Eleven and got you one of those cheesy 99 cent non-Halmark cards and one of those wilted roses that are rolled up in the clear plastic tubes and kept next to the beer section in the cooler, plus a Hershey bar with almonds, assuming all that, would a hand job be out of the question?
I mean, this was a discussion my wife and I had last night and I’d really like some input from someone who can look at the issue objectively.