EXCERPT FROM BOOK TWO: VALENTINE FREAK OUT

“Everyone has a freak flag inside them. Whether they’re brave enough to show it is another matter.” Alex Lawther

Since my first husband exited, rejecting Valentine’s Day was a defensive move. Fully embracing a grinch-like attitude, the day seemed like a snake in waiting, turning its sweetheart venom back on me. Was I the only one? My girlfriend was coming over to make heart-shaped cookies with me.

I went to the local market to get cookie supplies. The tall manager, who toted a trimmed mustache, followed me through the grocery aisles for months. On that day he asked me a loaded Valentine’s Day question, awkward and innocent,

“How many boyfriends do you have?”

My face flushed, and my words rambling and embarrassed. I was determined to explain myself fully.

“I had a sort of boyfriend, but he is recently out, and I have a girlfriend I’m making Valentine’s cookies with.”

His response was none. The empty silence invited me to continue,

“Not that kind of girlfriend…Not that there’s anything wrong with girlfriends. I just haven’t given up on men yet.”

He held a blank stare, somewhat dumbfounded, so I read that as a reason to keep going,

“But then again, I have no boyfriends. I had a couple of boyfriends, but that did not work, obviously,”

I said in an ineloquent closing to my rambling speech.

I was standing next to the flour in the baking aisle. Personal weirdness aside, why was I attempting to defend my situation to a stranger? I didn’t even know his name. Was he wearing a name tag or, worse, a wedding ring? I didn’t dare look. Staring at the canned goods, I scolded myself yet incredulously found more words.

“I would love to have just one boyfriend who was all in.” Could I hear myself?

Sadness overcame me. I almost started crying. Standing in front of heart-shaped candy sprinkles can do that.

“I just haven’t met him yet…I don’t think.”

I caught the sound of my statement, but there was no conviction in my voice.

I didn’t stop; what was wrong with me? This was one of those moments when I lost control of my words, as my mouth runneth over, stampeding down the candy aisles, crashing feelings all around (cleanup on aisle nine, bring tissues and a good shrink, is there a doctor in the house?!).

“I’m not sure if I’ll get a Valentine.” Did I say that? Oh no, this is far worse than I thought.

My ranting had finally found an escape route.

“What aisle is the corn syrup on?”

Still wordless, he pointed me in the right direction. After all that, I concluded with,

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” as if…

I scurried away. My words had assaulted a poor man who honestly wanted to chit-chat. I wanted to cry and grieve my loneliness. I felt sorry for myself. I was at a loss. Again.

I seriously needed to change my thoughts about this stupid Cupid guy named Saint Valentine. I imagined him with red horns and a pointy dagger. Of all people, I should not resent a day devoted to love. I loved love! Yet, the holiday was too united with commercial products and social pressure. Maybe it was just haunted with valentines of my past? Love pressure was way too much for me at that moment.

I knew I was loved by many. I loved my friends and those who were in my life. Today was Valentine’s Day; I made it my goal to love myself. It was just another day to learn about myself as an individual instead of the other half of a relationship—the silly missing link I thought made me complete.

That Valentine’s Day, I went to bed with my arms around myself. That was love enough.

I decided to shop at a different market.

My Mantra: “Happy day, Valentine’s or the day after, big hug.”