What? Oh, look, good, here, it’s Valentine’s Day, my favorite.
I have ONE cat, but still have apparently called it quits, thank you, skinny blonde lady with aggressively striped hair.
Here is my one and only Valentine’s Day story.
When I was fifteen, I was dating a very short boy who we will call David. We will call him that because it was his name and because I dislike him enough I don’t care if we use his real name.
Very Short David was my first boyfriend. So since it was the 90s, I of course listened to a lot of Debbie Gibson’s “Lost in Your Eyes” and thought about our future children. That second part wasn’t because it was the 90s, but because I used to be super-optimistic. And of COURSE you marry your first Very Short Boyfriend.
Very Short David also did not know how to kiss, and thought it just meant you put your mouth on the other person’s mouth and left it there without moving for very long stretches of time. VERY long stretches of time. Like, sometimes you peeked at your watch wondering what television shows you might be missing. Also, a thing that crossed your mind was, “people in movies and on TV shows seem to move their mouths more when they are kissing. I feel like we’re not doing this correctly.”
Very Short David and I started dating in October. So we totally got to date through my birthday, his birthday, and Christmas, which was VERY exciting and we got to give each other PRESENTS. If I remember correctly, I gave him thoughtful things like a baseball signed by some sort of important baseball person and he gave me a very pretty necklace so I was all “ZOMG VERY SHORT DAVID!” and he said, “Meh, my mom bought that and wrapped it and wrote your name on it, whatever” and I was all “VERY SHORT DAVID YOU ARE THE MOST ROMANTIC EVAH!”
As Valentine’s Day approached, I was very pleased. Because there was this foolish flower charity thingy that happened at school and I just KNEW that Very Short David would get me flowers and get them delivered to my homeroom and KA-CHOW I would finally be one of those girls. THE KIND THAT GOT FLOWERS ON VALENTINE’S DAY IN HOMEROOM. What kind of flowers? Poorly dyed carnations, of course, we were in high school, it’s not like we could afford hothouse blooms, sheesh.
I’m sure I bought Very Short David something but I don’t remember what it was. I’m very thoughtful, yo. Always was. Always will be.
So it was like two days before Valentine’s Day and I was SO EXCITED and also VERY ANTSY and all suffused with love and also the promise of ALL THE ROMANCE ALL OF IT.
And Very Short David ignored me all day at school, and I was all, “wha?” because that was not the way we rolled. We passed very romantic notes that said things like “TTYL” and “I like your jelly bracelets today.” (I made that last one up, I have no idea what our notes said. Also, I think I stopped wearing jelly bracelets in like 8th grade, don’t be foolish.)
So my friend who we will call Shari (that really isn’t her name, not because I care about her, but because last I knew she was super-mad at me for something that I don’t really understand and she seems sue-happy so I don’t think it’s in my best interest to use her real name, which is very distinctive) called him on the PAY PHONE in the LOBBY of the SCHOOL (because we were all about the technology back then, don’t even say we weren’t) and Very Short David said, “Oh, tell her I broke up with her, I’m in love with M. now.”
(M. gets the typical initial because she is still a friend of mine and I care about her a great deal.)
M. was my beautiful, outgoing, cheerleader friend. No, I don’t know why she was friends with young-Amy, either. (She’s still beautiful now. She also barely looks like she’s aged. She’s a miracle of genetics, that M. And I don’t even hate her. She’s lovely.)
“Um…what?” I said. Very Short David said goodbye to Shari and hung up. (In a surprising twist, Very Short David and Shari dated senior year. She was all, “will you hate me if I date him?” and I was like, “I honestly do not care what you do” and apparently this is not what you say to someone who thinks she is your best friend but who you didn’t really like all that much because you were kind of broken inside and didn’t really know how to have friendships.)
I cried and cried and went home and listened to a LOT of Debbie Gibson and cried and cried some MORE and then M. called and said, “I just want you to know that I’m totally not even INTERESTED in Very Short David, what is WRONG with him” so that helped a little (and she totally wasn’t, he asked her out the VERY NEXT DAY and she so laughed in his face and I will always love her for that.)
Needless to say, I never got those Valentine’s Day flowers. Also, Very Short David is on my shitlist. And remains there. (Also, Very Short David, after we broke up, told everyone who would listen that I “totally put out” and everyone knew I was a total dork who would not do that so he just got laughed at for attempting that charade. Therefore, he became Very Assholey David, and I still wish him ill. Yes. Still. Shut up, my insane loyalty has a flip side which is the inability to forgive if someone grievously wounds me.)
And yes, this is my one-and-only Valentine’s Day story, as never again was I dating anyone even ADJACENT to Valentine’s Day.
Do I hate a day that’s all dedicated to love and such? Aw. No. Of course not. Does it kind of make me equal parts sad and annoyed? Yes. Yes it does. Yet I am intelligent enough to realize that is stupid.
So happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. And if today is a sucktastic day for you, remember: tomorrow, the Valentine’s Day chocolate goes 50% off at the stores, yo.
Also, Very Short and Very Assholey David: I hope you are bitten by a bitey snake with sharp teeth. Or fall in a hole. Either way’s cool with me.
(Also, since this is the day of love: dear my loved ones, I love you so much it makes my whole heart ache with it. Thank you for…well, everything. I would be nowhere and nothing without you. You are better than all the poorly-dyed carnations delivered to me in homeroom in the whole world. I wouldn’t give you up for anything.)
Also, I found this on the interwebs; I think it is for me. Yay!