There’s no doubt in my mind that Valentine’s Day is a made-up holiday that benefits no one but businesses. Think about it- you’ll buy flowers and take your girl or dude out to dinner for an over-priced meal if you’re with someone. And if you’re single, you’ll go out and get chocolate because you’re not with someone.
Sure, I didn’t like this day during my teens as no matter how many people I dated, I always ended up single that day. But that’s not the case anymore. Not only do I have a date this time, but I have the best date. So what is my problem with D day now? That I know what is like to be alone in a day that was fabricated to make the single ones feel lonely because they’re single.
So I’m glad this thing will happen on a Monday. We’ll work, then go home and study for the midterm we have on Tuesday. As for the rest of you- celebrate if you must. And don’t worry about having that someone next to you if she/he isn’t there just yet.
We were heading to lunch. I tried to cozy myself up in the passenger seat trying not to think of how uncomfortable I felt for not taking a shower after my tennis workout. The traffic wasn’t bad which was a rare happening for Wilshire Blvd. I was looking forward to having Dim Sum for lunch- it had been a while since the last time we had it. I glanced over at the driver, my wife- and I noticed something unusual a little below her right ear. I could swear it looked like a hickey and I called her on it.
She looked at me sheepishly and asked me if I really thought that was possible. The thing is that at first the hickey didn’t bother me. I’m not allowed to give her hickeys and the thought of someone else being allowed to do so just made my blood boil. But seconds later it finally hit me what a hickey actually meant. If it wasn’t from me, then…
I thought then about her question, if I really thought she could do that to me. I was cheated on in every relationship I had before this one and that makes anyone suspicious of anything. But I’ve also never been truly loved before. So could it be possible? I wasn’t sure. But if she said it couldn’t be then I believed her.
I sank back into my seat quietly trying not to think of the act of being cheated on. I tried to push away the thought as I felt her hand slip into my hand. I felt silly then for even thinking it be possible. I glanced back at her and I noticed that the so-called hickey had vanished. “It must have been a scratch,” she said. And I wondered if maybe I should wear my glasses more often.
-Mrs. This One