dir/new_school/rant: V day

The Valentines Day nightmare started, for me, on the day before Valentines Day.  Garrett, this guy I work with that reminds me of a sort of cross between Tim Curry and Steve Buscemi, asked what I was doing for Valentines Day.  Then he said, “Is that right?”  Like before I’d even acknowledged his question.  At first I panicked because my boyfriend and I had no plans for Valentines Day other than maybe we’d meet for dinner during my lunch break.  I hadn’t bought him anything and he claimed not to have me anything as well and we were basically going to postpone the celebration until a time when it was more convenient for us to celebrate our love.  In foresight, this seemed like a good idea.  I work until around 11:30 every night so my boyfriend is usually asleep or going to bed when I get home because he has a 9 to 5 which really means 8 to 6.    So, I hadn’t thought much about Valentines Day.  I stumbled through some answer about meeting for dinner but by the time I’d gotten out an answer he’d stop listening.  Afterwards, I realized that Garrett was probably asking me if I wanted to go out with him for Valentines Day after work especially since he knew good and well that I’d be at work that night just like every other night and once he realized I had a boyfriend, he lost interest in my real answer.  Of course, I was so worried about seeming like I had a great relationship that this didn’t even occur to me.

After that, I called Paul and told him that he was going to be in big trouble if I was the only girl at work that didn’t get roses.  Of course, this violated our Valentine’s treaty but I didn’t care anymore.  He just laughed at me, but he’s pretty good about reading between my lines, and figuring out what I’m serious about so I temporarily thought the roses were a shoo-in. 

Later, in an obsessive fit, I called him back and forced him to tell me that he wasn’t sending me roses so I wouldn’t be disappointed because I know him pretty well, and I know that he’s very money conscious and that he wouldn’t be sending me roses but I wanted him to tell me so that I could confirm my suspicions. 

But then, I’d made such a big deal about it, I couldn’t really tell what he was going to do.  So, this afternoon when I came into work, there were balloons in feedbay, where I work.  My heart kind of skipped a beat and I was a little excited but I couldn’t be sure that they were for me because someone else works feedbay for the morning shift and he hadn’t left yet.  So, I went to the computer and checked my e-mail, checked my real mailbox, looked at the schedules stalling until the other guy left, so I didn’t make an ass out of myself getting all excited if they weren’t for me.  Well, when I went back to feedbay, the other guy was leaving and taking my balloons with him!  Paul had failed me.

So then I started making mental plans for Paul. 1:00- Maybe he was going to bring roses by personally during his lunch break  2:30-  The delivery boy is behind  7:00 Maybe he was going to give them to me at dinner.  Dinner-  Where are my fucking roses asshole????  Buy me a milkshake! 8:30-  maybe they’ll be on my car when I leave 11:30-  If there aren’t roses at my house, I’m ending it!

Meanwhile, in the real world, unbeknownst to me, Paul is writing about how he is in no way going to give me roses today because he doesn’t like the commercialization of the holiday.  I don’t like it either actually and I agree with everything Paul says in his diatribe.  However, what Paul doesn’t account for it that by not getting the roses, he is not paying the relationship tax which is, however much neither of us like it, required. 

For a woman (Paul’s “her” whoever she may be), not getting roses on Valentines Day means that your boyfriend doesn’t really love you.  It doesn’t matter what his reasons are, it comes down to the fact that he doesn’t love you enough to spend $2.49 at Kroger so that you can have a happy Valentines Day.  I don’t care if he didn’t buy me roses because children in third world countries are forced to pick roses in slavery.  He needs to get over his little moral hang up and buy the fucking roses so that I’m happy and so that I feel like he loves me. 

So, after I read Paul’s anti Valentines Day musing, we had a discussion about how I’m a part of the new generation.  Apparently our 5 year age difference separates us by more than just different high school angst music.  According to Paul, I’m part of the immediate gratification generation while he is a part of the practical thrifty wiser generation.  I want my love in the form of huge diamonds and fancy cars.  Which I guess is true.  If I get less than ¾ carats and platinum I’m saying no.   Why are we (my money grubbing peers and I) this way?  Because we want more than our parents and our parents had it pretty good.  My mom had a decent rock and still ended up cheated on and divorced so mine must be bigger and my house nicer etc.  It’s the American dream to the extreme.  We must at least appear to have it, even if we don’t, much like the perfect boyfriend. 

Ok, so now I’m aware.  And so are you, so fuck you for not buying me roses!  You knew I wanted them and you didn’t get them!  So fuck you!  Make me better than my mom! 

Of course, I’d only be saying that if Paul didn’t get me roses, which he did.  A dozen of them, surrounded by my favorite chocolates, waiting for me to get home from work.  And I will go to bed in a few minutes, snuggling closely to my truly perfect boyfriend knowing that out of all the things I want out of life, I’ve obtained at least one—Valentines Day roses (just kidding Sparky!  It’s you!) 

Of course, I didn’t get him anything, but that’s what we’d planned, right?
 
V-Day 3
                 The ScumDog 95 makes a retort to JLW's commentary