Saint Valentine, Cupid and J-Double-D

Yesterday was a day typically regarded with a either a headless saint or a fat, bow-wielding midget. It’s a corporate holiday that keeps flower companies in business at the first of every year in much the same way that the Vatican single-handedly demanded survival for fishermen in the middle centuries. It’s a farce disguised as a special day when there should be no need for a special day to declare your unyielding love for your soul mate. It’s pomp and circumstance.

So why do we participate in the ritual? We participate because for some pathetic reason we actually need a special day to do what should be a natural due process. Anyone who attempts a boycott is “bitter” or “lonely” or “pathetic”. Or he or she is sadly stuck in a loveless, joyless relationship. All of these are feasible. And all of these in many cases are bold-faced lies.

I never dated in High School. I had commitment issues. I had trust issues. I had obscene abandonment issues. I was overcome with religious guilt. And I did not have a single, solitary drop of real self-confidence. The boy in the mirror each morning was a masked performer nothing more.

When I started college, I sat with a group of girlfriends on V Day, ate junk food and watched “When Harry Met Sally”. I AM NOT GAY. But that was my day because I still did not date outside of the occasional fraternity or sorority function. I was a half way decent date for my lady friends who did not have significant others. I was safe, a gentleman and did not have the fortitude to believe that I could ever be anything more to anyone. I had issues.

I toyed with the idea of relationships in high school and the college years. I certainly did. But I also made certain that none of the things I wanted could ever come to fruition. All I had to do was always want to be involved with someone who was already committed to someone else. It was the perfect smoke screen to protect my emotional and confidence issues. I would just stay withdrawn within myself like a good little monk.

But then I met L. I was already in my mid-20’s and I had never had a legitimate relationship. She was a colleague. Then she was my friend. She became my favorite person with whom to spend my time. Eventually we became more than friends. And we became more without my ever actually asking her out on an official date. Our life together grew naturally. I could not stop anything or hide behind my usual masks because there was nothing to hide from someone who had grown to know me as I was.

And then I lost my grandfather suddenly to a heart attack. I went through the motions that had sustained me in previous losses. I took up residence at my best friend’s house. I sought solace where I had felt comfort as a teen and young man. But there was no comfort. I needed to be with her in order to feel any comfort, any shelter in the emotional storm throttling me. I only felt at home when I was with her. I was not going to even try to deny the obvious. I was completely and totally in love with this woman.

That is how I found my valentine. We were a couple for less than 6 months before we eloped. This year we will celebrate a decade of marriage. It has not always been easy. We have survived trials and in some cases one another. But we are still together. It’s not rocket science and it’s not something that is reserved for February 14th or our anniversary. It is 365 days a year.

It’s love pure and simple. It’s fate pure and simple.

Cheers.