I’m more on the end of “meh” where V-Day is concerned, but not overly so. I guess you can chalk me up as someone who likes flowers (anytime, not just on v-day) and cards and generally cobbles together some sort of hilariously pathetic valentine’s surprise for a SO-of-the-mo, but doesn’t freak out when the Big Gestures aren’t forthcoming.
Reason? I find that people who rely on Big Gestures of Love and Affection once-in-while act like said gestures make up for daily consideration, and that the occasional to-do serves as a means of tide-over until goodwill in the relationship ebbs to such a low that another gradiose act of romantic love is required to retain the attention of the other. Point number 2, I have a hard time accepting gifts without attemping to reciprocate. It’s not about score-keeping, it’s some internal fire in my belly that I don’t want to be that person who is always taking and not giving, or that I’m simply with someone for all the stuff they can buy me. This is related to point number 3, which is that gift-giving is stressful for me, because I’d rather just write a check and let the other person get whatever they want, since I have a hard time keeping track of what type of stuff other people generally like to accumulate. My attempts to give thoughtful gifts to others (friends or romantic interests) generally focus on activities we can do together-like plays or concerts, etc..
Yeah, I looked down and checked. Still have giney. Though when I elucidate these sentiments, it seems that for the most part I get a “I totally feel that way” vibe from men more than women. I’m not doing that whole “I’m a woman who hates women” shtick either, because seriously, a solid 90% of my friends are women. I am a girly girl. I like such typically girly things as makeup, hordes of cats, clothes that make me feel sexy and Clive Owen. But holidays like Valentine’s and Christmas and Birthdays make me wary, because they highlight that I have pitiful people skills, at least where prezzies are concerned. What I would get myself for Valentine’s-a book, concert tickets. What other people want for Valentine’s/Birthday/Christmas, unfathomable. I think, like, to go out to a restaurant where they dump creamy sauces over everything. Also annoying, when men take me to French or Italian restaurants and then expect Action Jackson later on. Vast quantities of butter and cream and other lipids upset the TUM TUM, how many times do I have to tell people that? The last thing I want to do after eating fancy-ass WPF is slurp down on a sperm smoothie. Even more annoying. It doesn’t taste like gateau, no matter how much pineapple juice you consume. I promise.
The only other thing I have going on is that I’m feeling weird and jittery because a) my sister and I are on the outs right now because she pulled that whole “because I am a doctor I shall give you sanctimonious advice I pull out of my butt” act and b) Valentine’s Day is when the people I LEAST want to hear from, inevitably write to me. Of note, my ex-fiance (married), which stresses me out. Not because I particularly care about him (for love of pete, we broke up 5 years ago and HE dumped me) but because he’s, you know, married, which just adds to my cynicism about how men, nay certain types of guys, are just all BIG FAT CHEATERS. And honestly, I’m more afraid that at some point his poor wife is going to find out and I’ll find her brawny Punjabi self at my apartment door with a sawed off shotgun screeching “you stay away from mah ma-huh, ye scarlet woman!” or some such. Or that she finds out and her heart breaks because it turns out she married a big fat jerk. Not to mention the immediate blaming of the Other Woman (yours truly) even though Yours Truly NEVER EVER EVER WRITES BACK. What is yours truly supposed to do other than potentially shut down her [social networking site] account, again?
Number 2 person that inevitably writes or makes contact and then it upsets and angers me for an entire day-my particularly evil ex of three years ago who neglected to inform me for nigh unto several months that he was muslim, and in fact, led me to believe that he was Hindu. This is not about the Hindu-Muslim thing but the fact that he basically LIED to my FACE about his freaking identity (he did give me his real name but it was oh-so-conveniently one of those could be either/or type names) for several months, catching me entirely by surprise when I found out. There are so many other things he did, that I get reminded of whenever he has the gall to write. Like how he once told me he wanted to burn a bunch of my CDs, so I left them at his house, and then when we broke up, he threw them out instead of returning them, because he knew how much I love music and how it would break my heart. Or how he frocking called up my law school classmates that he had met and started screaming at them and asking them what my new number was and telling them that I’d said all this awful stuff about them (false), sparking a series of “Monkey, your ex called and threatened me” phonecalls from my PROFESSIONAL ASSOCIATES. Honestly, aside from the fact that it was CRAZY, it was just freaking embarrassing as hell for me.
Confession, it makes me nuts, literally, nuts, to read blogs where the author talks about how jealous they are all the time, or how they can’t bear to have their SO talk to another human being who has the temerity to be of the opposite gender. Because I still have this residual PTSD from having to deal with The Crazy myself. I generally have to stop reading when people talk about their inner crazy, and how they suspect every goblin on the face of the planet has designs on their one and only, or joke about how upset their fair & loverly gets if they look sideways at a colleague of the opposite gender. Because I’ve been with someone like that and it drove me nuts, because such behaviour is nuts. I wonder what goes through someone’s mind when they attach and partner to such creatures. Warning to all those who indulge in The Crazy, it’s not cute, it’s just CRAZY. You have been duly warned.
My ex-fiance isn’t crazy, just a money-hungry manwhore. But if you’ve ever wondered why I drop people at the drop of a hat, or why I’m so unwilling to give people a chance (like 4, even though he isn’t crazy, his parents are and even though I told him to piss off, continues to make perfunctory friendly contact), my evil ex is the reason, right there in a nutshell. If I smell a hint of crazy I tend to run far far FAR away, as soon as possible.
So, for me, Valentine’s Day is just a big old ball of “meh”. All it means is that I have to revisit a past I’d rather forget.
I think I’d rather peruse golf clubs on line.
