The most romantic Valentine’s day for me took place in the year 2005. It was the first time I was ever truly in love. He came to my place after work carrying the largest teddy bear. He was not the type to be willingly seen lugging a 3-feet stuffed toy in public which made his gesture all the more endearing. We had dinner at Dulcinea afterwards where the waiters were extra attentive in honor of the occasion.
Valentine in year 2006 was memorable for a different reason. We had dinner at a restaurant we both liked near my workplace. We had an argument because I was jealous of one of his staff who projected a contrived cloyingly sweet demeanor. It irked me that whenever I noticed the girl’s affectations and voice it out, he would rise to her defense. Our argument intensified until dinner ended. When we got home he threw his surprise balloon arrangement gift for me in the trash in a fit of mixed temper and regret, thinking it would be unappreciated because of our fight. He made the extra effort to bring the gift home first before coming back to fetch me for dinner. It was then that my anger faded away, sparking our reconciliation.
How can I forget February 14, 2007? I had a miscarriage the day before, losing our firstborn son despite all efforts to save him. It was the valentine I received the most flowers because it was the first and only valentine my brothers gave me flowers when they visited me in the hospital. Because I had been staying in the hospital for a week before it led to the tragic event, he actually wasn’t able to prepare anything special for me. He bought me chocolates placed in a transparent heart-shaped case.
I had just thrown away this case a few weeks ago to rid me of sentimentality and to expunge memories of a relationship gone tragically wrong. Valentine in 2008 was the last we spent together. We didn’t even celebrate it on the day itself. He reminded me that I hated going out when everywhere was filled with crowds celebrating the event. Belatedly I realized he always put the blame on me or resorts to flimsy excuses when he was already two-timing me.
These are the ghosts of Valentines past. Committing it to paper is my effort of exorcising them. Call me the Valentine scrooge. Am I bitter? Am I sourgraping? All I can say, it’s better to be alone than to be in a relationship and still feel lonely…