Having captured my Valentine’s heart, the pressure is off. Whew. What a relief to no longer worry about how to survive the fourteenth of February.
I once marked the day in RED, and not for the reasons you might imagine. No, the red was a necessary reminder. Warning, warning. Break out the Kevlar. Strap on the defense mechanisms. Engage stealth mode. Keep your head down. And whatever you do, agree to nothing.
Your co-worker suggests a group dinner out. “Low key,” she says. At the last moment, she tells you, “Oh, by the way, we have a friend who is free and will be joining us for dinner”. That is code for a group of couples who have discovered you are not “coupled up” and have desperately searched out a prospect for you. Ask me how I know.
Busy body. I would have been fine. At home. Alone with a full-bodied Italian. I had splurged and bought the Chianti that had a cork, not the screw top.
Valentine’s day is easy now. No more snarky questions. No more lame excuses. No more looks of pity. No more unwanted pressure. I still see no need for giant teddy bears, and the other frou-frou that goes with the day. Years without those trappings have cured me. A quite dinner will suffice. And perhaps a Chianti with a cork.
I hope you are able to enjoy the day exactly as you wish.
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer