Why Do I Hate Valentine’s Day?
Ever since I could remember, Valentine’s Day was a day when you could step out on a limb and tell someone that you liked them OR find out that someone has secretly liked you and never had the courage to tell you about it.
So, I have always been the one to step out and tell that “special” female how I felt. In middle school, I remember sending out “Candy Grams” to a few females and never got a “thank you,” in return.
There was a female in my neighborhood. I wrote poetry to her, gave her gifts, just to find out that that she was pregnant.
In High School, I was always single on Valentine’s Day and no secrete admirers came out.
In College, I felt the courage to be Mr. Romantic. There was female that I saw on my way to class on every Monday. So, I decided to greet her with a long stemmed rose and poetry on Valentine’s Day. I thought she would think that I was weird or a stalker, she was actually flattered. She thought that one of her friends had put me up to it. She insisted that I read her the poem that I had wrote. My voice quivered, my hands shook, but I read the poem to her. I thought that some how, through the power of the words, the sincerity of the gesture would garner some emotion from her or at least friendship or an invite to converse later. She said “thank you,” and smiled and went on with her day. I saw her around campus, we made eye contact, but it was the stare of a stranger. She didn’t even have the look of “do I know you from somewhere?” It was as if nothing even happen at all, sort of like a day dream, something that only took place in my imagination.
Married for 7 years and I can’t recall a memorable valentine’s day. Wow, 7 years and I can’t remember not one? But I do remember the last one. The weekend before Valentine’s Day. I was taking a final for school, an online test. My wife told me that she would be going to have drinks with her girlfriends and would be back in 2 hours. When I completed my test, 3 hours later, she was not home. When I called her cell phone, it went straight to voice mail. When I looked up the hours of the place she said she was going to have drinks, it closed before she even left the house. I check my debit card to see where she could be having drinks…. The Sheraton? What is she doing at a hotel? So, you know how this story ends.
So, my entire life, I have been on a pursuit to make some special lady happy on Valentine’s Day, but not one time has anyone, even my ex-wife, gone out of their way to make my Valentine’s Day special. Yup, bitter black man, so please excuse me for not buying you candy, cards or flowers on Valentine’s Day, I got tired of depositing emotions into a bank that refuses to let me make a withdrawal.