I wasn’t going to write a blog post today. I wanted to avoid the cliché of being the single gal with a dating blog writing a post on Valentine’s Day. But, the Universe suggested otherwise.
I was on my morning walk with Kevin and I passed by a guy who I slept with a few months back. My vision is fuzzy without my glasses, but his hair is easy to spot from a few blocks away. In typical fuckboy fashion, this dude was ~SoOOoO~ into me weeks leading up to our “courtship.” Visited me at my bar all of the time, texted me good morning (like 1x/week lol) and even followed me on Instagram!!!! He totally wants to date me, right??!!?
Then we slept together.
Suddenly, I’m nobody.
Anyways, back to the present. I’m on my walk, realllyyy unsure how to approach this situation. My mature conscious is telling me to say hello, the vengeful side is telling me to either ignore him, or quickly train my dog to attack fuckboys.
I decide to spare Kevin the medical bills.
In college I wrote for my school newspaper. We sat around the office pitching ideas the week before Valentine’s Day and the Editor asked us, “Who’s single in here?” I hesitated and looked around the room. SERIOUSLY?! NOBODY ELSE? I slowly raised my hand.
“Awesome, you wanna write a piece about being single on Valentine’s Day?”
I internally rolled my eyes. Sure! I pretended to be excited.
Mannnn, this article was trash. 19 year old me suggested splurging on flowers and chocolates, maybe even an expensive AF piece of jewelry with your deep-ass-college-student pockets! I ended it with a ~love yourself~ spiel. You don’t need no man!!!
While I was supposed to be writing for the 30,000 students at UMass, I was really writing for an audience of one. For Nick.*
Nick was someone who I had been sorta seeing but not really? It was the very beginning of the “it’s complicated” movement–a trend that has only snowballed since. He was my go-to sleepover every weekend at his off campus apartment. Late nights turned to late mornings, but we still hadn’t defined what we were.
Well, I wanted Nick to pick up this issue of the Daily Collegiate and read my article. Why? Because I was ~SoooOOo~ totally cool with being single! I totally TOTALLY didn’t want him to ask me out Valentine’s Day. Nah! Not at all!
Well, my plan worked. Because he didn’t. Lol.
Nick eventually turned into my boyfriend who I consider my first love. Life happened, and he dumped me right before I jetted off to Cape Town for the semester.
That was the year that I realized you really don’t need no man on Valentine’s Day. Why? Because on 2/14/2014 I was WALKING AND PETTING GROWN ASS LIONS.
Pics or it didn’t happen:
So, yeah. Nothing will ever top that.
February 14th, 2017
I was hoping that he’d get me a card at least. When you tell someone you love them, you’re supposed to give them SOMETHING today, right? I don’t really know what we are. I feel semi-trapped in this relationship where I feel like I’m giving and giving so much of myself and starting to lose who I am. I’m so invested in him and I think I might be in love–well, he’s already told me he’s in love with me. He can’t live without me, he said. Apparently, I’m his everything. “Everything” but not enough for a text or phone call today.
I don’t really know. Maybe I just like enjoy the thrill of feeling wanted. Writing this, I’m recalling all of the times he truly treats me like garbage which scares the living fuck out of me. Who am I and why do I want a Valentine’s Day card from someone who is so toxic for me? He’s like a drug I can’t put down. Annnnd now I’m crying. On Valentine’s Day. Be more cliché, Beth. I gotta go for a run.
Somehow, I found myself at the bar alone. Swirling a glass of red wine as if I was important or something. I don’t quite remember what I was thinking about, but it probably was something along the lines of “I’m alone at a bar the day before Valentine’s Day. Awesome.”
One glass turned to two. Two turned five. Here’s a shot. Welp, can’t turn down a shot of free Jameson from the bartender when he poured himself one too.
Annndd, I’m drunk.
We woke up in bed together. I feel like garbage. I think he does too.
Nothing good happens after 2am. Damn straight.
He turns over and looks at me. “Well, Happy Valentine’s Day, hahaha.” I laugh. You too. It’s been a minute since I’ve had a Valentine. I hope he knows I’m joking.
“Let’s make it official, shall we?” He turns over to his nightstand and scratches on a pad of paper. “Here.”
I unfold the crumpled piece Post-It note. Be Mine? it reads.
We laugh. It’s a cute gesture, but I just want to go home…and maybe vomit (not from cuteness overload, but from Pinot).
I don’t know why I never answered his text. I’m sorry if you’re reading this.
I gotta find heart-shaped cookies for my Valentine’s Day insta!! I say this in complete seriousness. Am I being an annoying millennial? 100%.
I grab three cookies from Whole Foods, a pink heart, a purple heart and one shaped as a lip. Cute.
We head next door to the coffee shop, I’m eyeing the chocolate covered strawberries in the display window. Not because I’m craving them, but because I’m envisioning what my Instagram picture will look like.
“Do you want one?” The barista asks. “It was my brilliant idea to make them but nobody’s buying them,” he laughts, “here, have one. On me.” I know I have a bag full of cookies but what’s one more photo prop?
We take the most basic of photos and are laughing the entire time. Have you ever seen ~Instagrammers~ taking “candids”? It’s freaking hysterical.
I woke up today to dozens of texts from various men asking what my plans are. I suddenly hear a knock at the door. I throw some pants on and answer it. A DOZEN ROSES! A secret admirer? What?? Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful. I’ve sent a chef to make you breakfast in bed and made reservations at the most expensive restaurant tonight. Pick you up at 7pm in my Uber Black.
Nah, all the texts were from my friends and family and the knocking on the door was the UPS man delivering my most recent purchase–a book titled, How To Date Men When You Hate Men (strategically purchased to arrive today).
I open an email from a client, “Can you post something about the new beer we are tapping today? It’s called Bitter Valentine.” Lol.
I throw my jacket on and take Kevin for a walk. REALLY, UNIVERSE? I squint my eyes. Is that really him?
I used to love his hair and the sight of it now makes me low key want to set it on fire. I’m kidding. But not really. I strategize what my next move will be.
Suddenly, I realize why cell phones were invented–to ignore a passer-by without them knowing you are in fact ignoring them. Thank you, Steve Jobs.
What does the rest of my day look like? Well, I’m writing this for your entertainment (and mine). The world doesn’t shut down today, unfortunately, so I still have to work. Then, after I’m done with my scary-looking to-do list, I get to go pour Bitter Valentine Double IPAs to a bunch of bar guests who also don’t care so much about this holiday.
At this point in my life, Valentine’s Day is just another day. Yeah, I know you’re reading and thinking Sure, Beth, you’re just another spiteful single bitch. Nah. I’m really not. I’d rather spend it doing things I enjoy…kind of like every other day of my life.
Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me. I’ll be behind the bar.
Happy Valentine’s Day!