So, it’s Valentine’s day again; this the single peeps’ least favourite day of the year and the real test of the coupled up’s love for each other. For years, this day (together with midsummer, Christmas, New Year’s, Easter, birthdays, funerals and christenings) used to invoke a feeling of dread and despair in me. There’s some cosmic rule stating that we should all be coupled up. With someone. And I wasn’t.
If you’re not coupled you’re only welcome when people can’t avoid inviting you. Or when it doesn’t really matter if you’re there or not. But even then you have to put up with weird looks, unwelcome come-ons and people digging into your private life. I guess single people are scary. They’re a threat to people’s perception of what the world should be like. They are potential partner snatchers. And they’re far from normal the way they seem to be partying all week long flaunting their independence. Oh well… I suppose it’s all down to the old “the grass is greener” adage.
Jealousy is probably the ugliest of all diseases, because it poisons the mind and makes people dream themselves away from their lives. This seems to be an especially common phenomena in coupled up people. Read women. I think I can count the number of “happy” relationships in my circle of aquaintances on my left hand’s fingers. And I know a lot of people! Most of them keep talking about their partner as if he were an extra child and how fed up they are with him and his infuriating habits. But come Valentine’s they can’t wait to manifest their “happiness”. This is pay-off day – the day when he will reimburse you for your sufferings and give you a chance to impress your friends with his (material) tokens of love.
At work Valentine’s has been the main subject in most conversations all week, and the newspapers have been full of last-minute relationship rescue advice. One poor chap told the story of last year’s Valentine when his girlfriend said she didn’t want anything in particular – after all it was all just another commercial hype. He couldn’t believe his luck to have picked such a gem of a girlfriend! He picked up a bucket of KFC, bought a bottle of fine wine and grabbed a DVD box to treat his lovely lady to a romantic night on the couch. This, however, backfired when the lovely lady turned into a dragon and threw the chips in his face. She called him an insensitive twat! How could she face family and friends with the news that he’d not given her anything at all??!! For some unknown reason the young lady was still his girlfriend and now he was in agony – this year he had to get it right. But what did she want?
Everybody lies, says Dr House, and he’s got a point there. You say you don’t want something special because that’s what you’re supposed to say. But deep down you hope that he will get it. That he’ll think of something special. That this will be the day he manifests his love for me.
I’ve been very guilty of this myself. I’ve measured love in quantity rather than quality. The number of texts and phone calls. The number of days since he last spent the night. Took me out. Gave me a present. Did something – anything – to show me he cared. Yet I’ve never trusted that Valentine chap as far as I could throw him!
I tell ya, girlfriends, manifested love is not real. It’s as sour as the notes from a badly tuned piano. No presents in the world can mend a broken relationship. The diamond ring has not been forged that can turn “an extra child” into a passionate first lover at certain days of the year. And thank god for that! The reality is that you have to make your mind up – you either want a Man or you don’t. If you do, you need to love him unconditionally for who he is, not for who you wish he was. And you need to understand that Valentine’s Day has nothing to do with real love.
For years I claimed to need a man as much as a fish needs a bike. But everybody lies. What I didn’t need was manifested love and broken relationships with someone I considered to be an extra child. I was miserable enough in myself back then, and I really didn’t need someone else to make me feel even more miserable. But of course I wanted a Man. I just thought my chances of meeting one were about as good as my chances of finding the Holy Graal. But then I met my Norm.
Imagine, if you can, six feet and two hundred pounds of self esteem and a vivacious zest for life coupled with a strong faith and a PhD in Wisdom from the University of Life. Then tell me how a woman is supposed to resist him.
“You need a Man to look after you”, he said.
“Yeah right, about as much as a fish needs a bike”, I tried. Lamely.
“Don’t be like that”, he said. “You can’t lie to me. You’re lost. I don’t know where you are, but don’t worry – I’ll find you!”
I tried my best not to fall for him, and (much to my dismay) I ended up hurting him in the process. But three and a half years, and an uncountable number of broken walls, later it doesn’t seem all that far fetched to think that a fish might need a bike after all. I needed a Man and I found one. Or he found me to be precise. He cares for me every single day and he would lie, steal and die for me if he had to. His love is unconditional, and knowing that he loves me even in my worst moments has changed me.
I have found a serenity in myself I never knew existed. I have found a sense of home and belonging that means more to me than I have words to describe. That’s why I don’t need him to buy me anything today. With Norm in my life every day is special and the biggest gift he can give me is to let me fall asleep in his arms and wake up happy to another day knowing we’re still here together. And that I can do any day of the week, any week of the year.
Beat that if you can, Valentine!
//Yours Truly x
