I opened the door and there he was holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a fistful of roses, beaming proudly, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”
“Damnit! Not you, too!” I blasted him and shut the door as I turned on my heel.
He opened the door and followed behind me. “What? It’s Valentine’s Day. I brought you gifts,” he whined.
I spun around to face him and snapped, “No. You brought you gifts. Those aren’t for me.”
His brows furrowed as we stood there staring at one another in an awkward silence. I folded my arms over my chest, not budging. Finally, his shoulders slumped and his arms dropped to his side, still holding the offerings in his hands. He eventually just looked down at the floor.
He was crestfallen, but I kept at him. It was for his own good, “I get it. You got all caught up in momentum of the day. But, that’s just not me and I thought it wasn’t you either. You were quite clear about that last year after that girl broke your heart,” I reminded him.
‘No more stupid, messy, useless love for me,‘ you said.
I drove the point home, “Remember? We…you and I…both of us…we were crystal clear about that.”
He shrugged and looked back up to me with that sheepish smile of his and those big, soft puppy dog eyes. “Well, it’s also our anniversary today.” He said. “One year since we met. I wanted to make that special at least.”
That’s when I felt it.
Love.
I thought I’d sensed it for some time, now. Those all too familiar angsty pangs were hitting my heart. The butterflies were fluttering in my stomach. Tendrils of aching need began to slither along my flesh. My mouth went so dry that I could barely speak. Somehow I managed to croak out, “Leave.”
But, he didn’t leave. He began walking towards me, his arms wide. I stumbled backwards trying to get away from him and his gifts and, mostly, his Love – that all consuming human emotion that wraps its hungry, suffocating tentacles around you squeezing until you gasp your last breath. Then he uttered that phrase, those three cursed words.
I tried to make him stop – to make it stop. Truly, I did. I demanded that he go away. I pleaded with him to just go outside and walk it off. By then, he was too far gone, I think. That damnable holiday pushed him over the edge. And, by the way, how they co-opted cupid into that commercialized mess is disgusting.
Now, I know what you’re thinking, so you can just spare me the disapproving look. I’m immune to it by now. It’s all my fault, right? I should know better. Blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard it all before. So, you can save the lecture.
In any case, I didn’t do away with this one altogether. Surprised, huh?
That’s right. While he was unable to maintain his self control, I kept my head and let him keep his…sort of. Let’s just say that he’s not the man he used to be and leave it at that, okay?
In all sincerity, I’m going to miss him. I really thought this one was a keeper. I thought he’d be able to resist the urges, the compulsion. Silly, weak mortals.
It’s a pity. Things were going great for almost a year. A year! Instead of blaming me this time, I say that we blame it on Valentine’s Day.
