This is my own interpretation of the hugely celebrated day of love, so please, all you loved up romantics don’t get your knickers in a twist.
Once upon a time I loved Valentines Day. I was one of those girls with the rose tinted glasses walking around in a haze on this day of love. You could bet your bottom dollar that every single Valentines Day would be a day for this little Miss to be spoiled to the max. Expensive gifts were showered on me, I was taken to lavish dinners, red roses and chocolates delivered to my place of work for everyone to see – “this girl is truly loved“.
Since D-Day I view this day in a different light, we may have patched things up and are currently in a healthy happy relationship but my grey tinted glasses never fail to make an appearance on these such occasions. Why? Because everything nice he every did for me before D-Day feels to me like GUILY LOVE. All those gifts? Guilt gifts. All those expensive and lovely dinners? Guilt dinners. The beautiful ruby red roses? Guilt Flowers. The tasty delectable milk chocolates? Guilt Sweets. Our first Valentines Day after D-Day is one that is particularly memorable, all the others are now a hazy blur. I don’t know what I hoped for but I told him in no way should he buy me any gifts or take me anywhere for Valentines Day because this day just brought it all back for me, the infidelity, the lies the image of her 19 year old slut face, the text messages I read and I will never be able to erase from my brain. How can we celebrate our “love” when it was now tainted by his cum in her ass. I was very bitter this day. Everything was 100 times worse in my opinion because he followed through with my advice and didn’t do a single thing for me that Valentines Day (like I said before I don’t know what I was hoping for but in hindsight I don’t think anything would’ve made me happy). In fact he took off and left me at home alone because he didn’t want to cause me more pain (with the sight of his cheating face). This didn’t help, this upset me more. I spent that night alone ripping up old photos of us and poems I had written him, yes, I wrote him sappy love poems. Ugh. What a fool I was.
That first Valentines Day after D-Day was of course the worst. Every one after that has been easier. We have not done anything spectacular for each other but nor have we behaved morbidly. We have been wanting to visit an old frequent of ours for dinner and have been contemplating it for months, however with our busy schedules and our children we have not been able to find the time, but, surprise surprise. It seems we can finally make it to dinner and it just so happens to be, yes, you guessed it, Valentines Day. *gulp*. I’ll try to wear maroon tinted glasses this time. That’s got to be better than grey.