I
have no hatred for Valentine’s Day, and never really have
– it’s just a day on the calendar, and even if I’m
not dating someone I can still go out and get those little Necco
candy hearts that I tend to inhale. When things are going well,
I’m happy to be all romantic, and when they aren’t,
I begrudge nobody else their good fortune.
It’s always been a good day for me to take stock of my personal
life – and to be honest, that has changed in the past 365
days more than I ever would have imagined in a million years.
You may have noticed that I very rarely write about my social
life in my journal (point of fact: I don’t write about much
of anything right now, but I think my FTP problems have been sorted
out so I should be back in business soon). Y’all are in good
company – I don’t talk about it much with my friends
either. Getting personal details out of me requires a lawyer-like
determination and about a hundred questions in the hopes that
I’ll eventually wear down and confess.
But here’s the deal … shortly after Valentine’s
Day 2001 (well, in April, but bear with me here), I started dating
someone, and odds are good that we’ll be getting engaged
before too much longer.
And almost nobody knows.
My family does, and a couple of friends (and, now, y’all),
but I’m sure the news will blindside some of the people I’ve
known forever.
This isn’t a new phenomenon. When I was in college,
I dated the same girl for most of the three and a half years between
January of my freshman year and our graduation four years later.
The one exception was a three-month period during senior year
when we broke up and saw other people. We got back together by
the end of April.
Y’all, I was living in a house with seven other guys, and
one of my best friends in the house had no idea the girl and I
had ever stopped dating, let alone that I had gone out with someone
else in the interim. Because I don’t ever talk about things
like that.
Why is that?
Well, I never have. I have a compulsion to not jinx good fortune
by commenting on it (it’s a Jewish thing, I think), but the
main issue is that I’m pessimistic by nature on that regard.
Always have been. If I “liked” you back when we were
in fifth grade, I’d have never said anything about it because
what if you said no? I’d be mortified. And I’d be almost
as equally mortified if you’d said yes, because what do I
do then?
I was a dork. I still am a dork. Admittedly. I guess I just don’t
trust good fortune. If I say that I have a girlfriend, and I talk
about her and bring her around and brag on her forever, what happens
if we break up? Then I have to talk about how things went wrong.
No thanks. I tend to make the choice to keep everything internal,
for good or ill.
Valentine’s Day, though, I guess I have to talk about it.
And, to come full circle, that’s what I like about the holiday.
Call it contrived if you like (although it’s been around
forever – even before Hallmark, even), but it’s a day
to tell people that you love them.
How can I argue with that?
The notify
wants you.
And
the forum
wants you too, fool.
before
a index
a next
