I’ll be honest; I’ve never really had a proper Valentine’s Day. It’s through no fault of my own because god knows I’ve tried. Dressing up as boxes of heart shaped candy, yelling at random men in the street ‘ ok who wants to eat me; I have a soft centre, taste of strawberries I’ve been told, or you could pick a flavour, I’m cool with that too…oh god, look at me! Why won’t someone love me!…look at me!’
So like I’ve said, I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried.
Having recently been dumped by my boyfriend, less than a week ago to be exact, I’m expecting this Valentine’s Day that I’m going to be single. I hold a Master’s degree in case you’re wondering where my powers of observation about my life come from and yes; sometimes it’s hard to be as perceptive as I am. Burdens hey, we all bare them.
My first understanding of Valentine’s Day came about when I was 7 years old and Matthew Kennedy threw a bottle of perfume at me, hitting my arm and as such unfortunately managing to miss my heart. I still remember the lilt of his words that accompanied his physical abuse ‘my mum made me give you that because I don’t like girls who have moustaches.’
With his jealousy of my ability to grow facial hair 10 years before he sprouted a pube laid to bare across the school playground, I held my head high, kicked him in the head and returned to my game of handball, sore arm and all, cause and though I’m loathed to do it because it calls for a direct quote from Destiny’s Child but ‘I’m a survivor.’ Of course with all the chaos of the day it was easy to lose focus of what was really important; that I got a valentine and as such my self-worth was clearly better than anyone else’s was because even though he didn’t want to admit it, convention dictated that Matthew Kennedy was in love with me.
Years past and I’ve managed to miss Valentine’s Day every time, for varying reasons of course:
– I’m single at the time
– My boyfriend is dating someone else and can’t afford to spring for 2 presents (totally understandable)
– We’ve been on a break
– He was Catholic
– I wasn’t tall enough
I did think perhaps my dry streak might have ended early last year when an old flame rang me to say just say:
‘Hi there sexy’
‘Oh hi there’ I quipped back
‘Hey you know how I could always call you if I had a problem Lou.’
‘Yeah, what’s up?’
‘Well it would appear I have a bit of a blockage.’
‘I’m not a plumber.’
‘It’s not that sort of blockage.’
‘Then get some Metamucil, I mean really we haven’t spoken in months and now you call because you’ve always had a fibre shy diet. This really isn’t my problem. I told you that when we were together’
‘No, it’s not that, I’m just lying here, all pent up and thought I’d call and see if you were good to your word about helping a fella out.’
‘You want me to come over and have sex with you?’
‘Oh no need for that, I’m pretty much almost there, we could really just do it over the phone…you know phone it in.’
I have decided though I’m not going to bemoan Valentine’s Day this year; I’m pretty sure my ex isn’t, so no, instead I’m going to do a twist on an old favourite. I’m going to stand out the front of my house tossing bottles of perfume at men as they walk past and fingers crossed I knock one unconscious and finally get the chance to defile someone to country music – like they say ‘fish gotta swim, girl gotta try.’
Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone.