A Valentine's Tale

Ed's Note: DH and I don't do much for Valentine's Day and that's fine by me. This year he got me a really sweet card, a long stemmed red rose, and on our behalf made a donation to the Red Cross Bushfire Appeal. He couldn't have gotten it more right. I love you, DH! - as I remind you sixty thousand times a day - but that doesn't make it any less true.

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So for today I thought I would tell you about my single worst Valentine's Day ever. I'm pretty sure my parents don't know I even HAD this boyfriend, so it'll be a revelation for them as well (Hi Mom). Let me preface this by saying that I am a closet hippie ... I've always had a vaguely alternative, free love, yay the trees and our forest friends sort of part of my personality. These days it doesn't come out quite as much but in college it was in full force. As a result I had a vaguely alternative boyfriend named M. M, among other things, wore a black leather jacket with the Chechnian (sp?) flag on it, wore 10-eyelet Doc Martens, wore blue plaid flannel pants all the time and shaved all his hair off except a 3 inch long fluffy stripe off to one side. He also had flame red hair, so it was in fact a bright red 3 inch long fluffy stripe. He also had the dubious honour of running away from home but on the way getting into a train wreck (really!). He escaped unscathed from the wreck so he just went back home and never said anything to anyone, nobody noticed, and then some months later tried again (and was sucessful.)

Anyway let's get onto the Valentine's biz, shall we? So M was perpetually broke because he spent his every last dollar (what few there were) on CD's and random music and/art stuff because he reckoned he was a bit of of ar-teest. He had a string of crazy jobs - wierd phone line things, selling schemes, whatever. On Valentine's Day he asked me to meet him at the bus depot so we could head into downtown Denver for a night nice out which he planned. Seeing as he was working (at the phone line thing) we had to start out night fairly late - he was going to call when his shift ended. In the meantime I got nicely dressed and I think I even (gasp!) put on lipstick. Neither of us owned a car at that point, hence the whole romance of public transport thing.

He called around 9 pm (!) several hours after I expected, and asked me to meet him at the light rail interchange - which required a bus ride for me anyway. I get there and he is waiting, leather jacket and all, and with a mysterious bag in his hand. There I am thinking he has bought me a V Day present! We get on the light rail (to head into town) and he says nothing about the bag. We're waiting for the train to start, sitting there, and I say, "So where are we headed?" and he says, "I don't know. I'm not sure what's open this time of night."

Wait a sec. Back up. Wasn't HE planning this night out?

"Wait a sec - back up...you don't know what's open? Didn't you make reservations or something? It's Valentine's Day!"

He just kinda sat there, looking abashed. Determined to set this night straight I asked, "So what's in the mystery bag?" and he says, "Ooh! Do you want to see? I got the COOLEST new CDs by [insert vague alternative ska band]." He then proceeds to give me a blow by blow account of his CD hunting in the city earlier that day. In other words, the shmuck did not spend one single red cent on me. Sure, sure, it's all about the thought that counts...but there WAS no thought, was there?

In emzee fashion, I was having none of this. So mid-sentence I just stood up, left the train (which thankfully had been delayed) and got back on the bus heading back to school. It took him a minute but he followed me onto the bus and was all, "Wha...?? Michelle? Are you okay?"

Now at this point I should have opened a can of whup ass on this guy, but I was all hippy and free love and whatever, so I didn't. I just told him there was no point (at now 10pm) going out with no reservations and that I was going home. He meekly asked if he could follow me back to the apartment, and I agreed. When we got back, he complained he was hungry (no SHIT, Sherlock) and wanted some dinner. Being in suburban Denver, there wasn't much but a Safeway down the road. So he decides he's going to go out and get us dinner at the supermarket.

I should have locked the door and shut the lights off and pretended to be asleep, but then hindsight is a beautiful thing.

About half an hour later he knocks at the door. I answer, and there he is with a supermarket bag in one hand, and a big ol' red heart balloon in the other. He holds it out with a puppy dog look on his face and says, "I'm sorry I kinda messed up." Me being me, I thought it was all sweet and thanked him.

"Do you like it?" he asked. "Yeah, it's totally sweet, thank you!" "Yeah the best part is that it was FREE! The night manager was taking down all the Valentine's decorations at the supermarket and he let me have it for nothing! How cool is that?"

Actually, DEAR, it's totally NOT cool. People who say it's the thought that counts LIE.

I grudgingly take it and walk back into my room. I hear loads of dishes rattling around and whatnot and some time later he asks if I want to eat dinner with him. What the hell, I was hungry, right?

Let me stop here just to say that I generally (and then not at all) eat meat and milk together, AND at that time I was a vegetarian.

I come out to find ONE plate of dinner, and on that ONE plate is a chicken shnitzel. With a slice of melted American cheese on top.

At this point words escape me, so I just turned on my heel and went back into my room and slammed the door. He followed, knocked and said, "Michelle? Hello? What's wrong? What happened?"

I didn't answer for a moment (probably trying to come up with something witty) and so he waits about 3 seconds and then says, "Okay, well do you mind if I watch the [hockey] game?" and then proceeds to go back to the living room, eat his animal product dinner, and watch hockey.

In the morning I found him asleep on my couch and I kicked his ass out....with him seemingly clueless as to how and why it had all suddenly gone so terribly, horribly wrong.

I'm not sure why (or how) but we did date for a while after that...although I have to say not exactly with full enthusiasm on my part. We eventually ended it (okay, I ended it) when I returned to SoCal and he got hit by a bus. Yes, in that order. No, not because of the bus, that was just incidental (and yet strangely both amusing and somewhat isn't-karma-a-bitch-esque.)

I did see him once after that (sadly, in Denver General Hospital) and we emailed maybe twice after that...but, really, the worst part about the whole thing is that he NEVER seemed to understand what went wrong that night. Part of me wonders what happened to him (although last I heard he was engaged to a girl from Idaho who he met on the Internet and had yet to meet in real life).

NONE of this story (including details of this guy's life) are made up....and freakier still, I still own a mix tape he made for me. Question is, who out there in Internet land can beat me for weird and terrible Valentine Day stories?