Validating Valentines

Cupid should know how to shoot himself so that he’d also realize how it’ll be like to be a valentine, experience Valentines and even have a valentine.  

Then, we’ll be even. Soo… Are you girding for the battles come February 14 by –

Scoring a reservation in a restaurant, buying cards, flowers?

The grand scheme. Tout la Rage!
Getting ass-drunked, dinner with girlfriends, wearing black?

An aberration.

Six years of dreading what to do on the 14th, of what to buy, of what to wear, of which Eat-All-You-Can you’re going to binge in, just because the 14th happens to be your ex-anniversary has taken its toll on how I see Valentines – a deviation of what is actually a no pressure, no frills day. Couples always festoon restaurants like its their last date on Earth. I’m pretty sure the mean, mean [read: bitter] crowd could just have hissed, “You’ll still break up.. sometime,” or, “He’s cheating on you and He will see her after dinner.”

During pre-relationship delusion, Vday was the raison d’etre for restaurants. 2004. The Site Patio with then boyfriend, family and friends. The bill? On dad. 2005. We were at Leo’s in CDO when I bumped into La Familia. Naturally, mon peré just had to invite us to sit down – and pay for dinner. Those were the halcyon days where dinners and gifts were supplied gratis. Ahlavett! 2006. Dinner at *restaurant name withheld* while stage girlfriend, along with O, Angel, Anton, and Salve, was watching boyfriend sing onstage. What’s going to float my boat in 2007?

To validate, Valentines Day has always been love, love, love and looooove. Generous-all-consuming-unconditonal-remind-me-I am supposed-to-love love. Sappy one-liners, doe-eyed looks, seeing all red, isn’t that cute? Sigh. Even Hunhun has made me singing love songs now.

(….”baduuyyyyy….”)
So don’t feel sorry just because you don’t have a date, a gift, a someone. Feel BITTER. (I’m sorry, I’m joking)

Love yourself. Get a spa. Shop. Eat. Drown in Red Horse. Call your mom. Ride on a Ferris wheel. Wear your favorite outfit. Paint your nails red.  Order that prime rib. Watch Shortbus in full volume. Open friendster during shift with windows maximized. Scream when you’re having an orgasm. Anything. Do the things that you deprive yourself from doing.  

In the meantime, let me enjoy Valentines without the pressure this year. Let Cupid bear all the brunt. [..or skely..*hint hint to anyone who feels like getting on a boat this Friday night.*]

Taken from Mitz’s class. Its a SHE. The mangina’s hidden somewhere. 

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Home Bitter Home

Getting back to Cebu was the worst. On Tuesday, I was scheduled to work at one in the morning and it was hard to just get back on track with everything that happened last weekend was still fresh from memory.

I knew that I would somehow be cerebrally incapacitated. After that weekend? Who would be back in her natural state of mind?

I could still feel him, smell him, see him — remember him. He would constantly pop in my head for no reason. His arms. His smile and that dimple that crinkles in his left cheek. His laugh and booming voice. His clothes. His caps. His bald shiny head. I sound like a love sick puppy but it was the best feeling in the world.

He was sad. He missed me, he told me once. But it would be childish to think that the world will stop moving just because you wanted it to. There will always be that time, that opportunity. I saw grow up, hun, make mistakes, even fall in love. You know where to look for me. I’ll be the gent that saves the day when the time comes you’ll tire of all those.

Will I ever tire? Will I ever stop growing?

I don’t know when is the next time I am going to see him. He said he’ll come and get me but I can’t ask him when because he doesn’t know the answer which is sad. This is what this relationship is going to be for the next few months – anticipating, worrying, frustrating, doubting – but still happily engaging and fun and promising.

Till next time hunhun.

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A Half-baked blog

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