Valentine’s Day.
Fuck.
So much pressure.
I have gone around and around about Valentine’s Day this year because, officially, I’m dating someone, which means I should have plans.
But I don’t.
After our discussion around his birthday, I kind of knew that the Filmmaker wouldn’t ask me out for Valentine’s. After all, it’s a day of professing love and bestowing affection and all kinds of complicated things when you’re in a relationship that’s “casual” and not a relationship with a capital R. We’re in that middle ground limbo of relationship hell - together, but not really; adore each other but not really love; intimate but not there yet.
And I essentially accepted that I would be spending Valentine’s with Z, my best friend, the way it has been for years. Her boyfriend doesn’t really believe in Valentine’s so it’s usually her and me.
But as she and I talked last night about whether we were actually going to have our standing date, I talked myself into being pissed off that the Filmmaker hadn’t asked me out for that special day. And everything’s up in the air because Z’s boyfriend occasionally breaks his loathing of Valentine’s and will actually take her out. So we were discussing how we were both in limbo, despite having men in our lives.
And when we hung up, despite my having accepted that the Filmmaker would not be my date on the 14th, I left myself get caught up in the worst of the worst thing I do - expectations.
Way back when I was seeing a therapist, one of the things she talked to me about was my expectation of people and situations and how those expectations led me often into difficult situations because I think/expect things to go one way and when they don’t, I get very upset and pissed off. Even though the other person has no idea what my expectations are, I think they should know and they should be able to read my mind.
Well, I walked down that well-worn path last night and got myself into a real old-fashioned tizzy.
Fuck him. He should know that this day means something and he should know that I know it doesn’t mean what he thinks I think it means and he should just grow a pair and be a man and quit hiding behind the inevitable “I’m a dick” conversation that’ll come up and fuck him and I should just stop seeing him if he can’t get his head out of his ass long enough to see how this is stupid and mean and fuck him… you get the drift.
I even spent the entire morning working out my break-up speech. Oh, it’s a good one. Full of “I’m calling bullshit” and “you keep pushing me away” and all kinds of Lifetime movie moments that maybe I’ll put into the new script I’m writing. I honed it to perfection and patted myself on the back for being a grown up and taking charge of this and not letting myself be made to feel invisible and bad and…
Oh, but wait…
We never discussed going out on the 14th. We had a long discussion about being “casual”, which means things like Valentine’s will probably go unacknowledged because casual relationships don’t go there.
Oh, and he has no idea what I’m thinking or feeling, so how can he be responsible for what I’m thinking and feeling?
Because… well… because… shit. I got nothing.
I finally got my brain to calm down after spending the day starting college again. The distraction gave me some clarity in this whole stupid situation.
First of all, I’ve had the “perfect” Valentine’s with my ex. Sixteen years of perfect. He did everything right. Flowers. Occasionally candy. Dinner, movie. Beautiful cards professing unending love. All the romance he thought the day should hold.
And he tore me apart the other 364 days a year.
He showed me that this one day of professing love and being “romantic” (damn, there’s a lot of quotation marks in this entry) really means absolutely nothing if it’s not backed up by love and kindness the rest of the year. Roses and dinner and Hallmark cards are empty, meaningless and hypocritical if there’s nothing in the rest of your life.
And he always made such a big deal out of being together on Valentine’s Day and making sure that we did it right. But it eventually meant nothing other than one more day I had to smile and pretend that everything was all right. In fact, I had to pretend harder because we were supposed to be happy, we were supposed to be in love. But as we got further and further from that love, it was actually painful to try to be all that. The words on the cards hurt because I knew the promises were only words on a card that thousands of other women were reading that day. And that on the 15th, it would all be back to normal, those words only echoes, empty and hollow.
So what does that mean now? With the Filmmaker?
Well, I realized I had a choice.
I could let myself be angry and upset and petulant, like maybe every other woman he’s ever been with, over something silly like this. I could make him feel bad because he’s not ready to be in a relationship that would celebrate Valentine’s Day. I could force him to be something he’s not, push him into a situation that he’s obviously either not comfortable with or not ready for. I could push and push until either he or I says, enough, and we walk away from each other. I sometimes feel like he’s trying to do that anyway, trying to get me to walk away so he doesn’t have to. So I could do that. I could be that girl, that chick who’s the pushy, whiny bitch who berates him about not being a good man.
Or…
I could accept that I knew that we weren’t going to be together tomorrow. I could accept that he’s just not ready/willing/able to go there. I know where he stands, I know how he feels so I could just accept that and let it go. I could also look at my previous life and see how little this one single day means in the course of an entire relationship. I could accept that I don’t know where he’s coming from, I don’t know what he’s thinking and he doesn’t know what I’m thinking and just leave it at that.
Because I dig him. I dig him a lot. And it’s not perfect and it’s not quite what I want in the long run. But it’s pretty groovy right now.
And eventually, I’ll say good-bye, when it’s really not working or it’s really getting difficult or it really just doesn’t feel good anymore.
But for now, I can choose to just the day go by, maybe shoot him a quick, innocuous text wishing him love on the day, so he knows he’s not in the doghouse with me but also that there’s no expectation of anything. I can choose to just enjoy his company whenever I see him because he makes me so very happy the rest of the time. I can choose to just let go of all this expectation that the day forces upon us and just know that one single day means absolutely nothing at all. And I can choose to not be a crazy, insane, demanding woman and just relax and not make him crazy at the same time.
And I can send him positive vibes tonight and tomorrow, instead of the angry, dark, negative vibes I’ve been shooting at him all day. And show him I care by showing him I don’t care. There are 364 other days we can play. One single day doesn’t matter.
That’s what I choose.
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