The Saint Must Die

I’m putting a hit out on stupid-ass St. Valentine.

Die.

He has me acting all kinds of crazy and irrational for absolutely NO reason at all. That stupid, stupid Saint. My morning began nicely enough. Standard weekly 9:00 am staff meeting, followed by a little gchatting with Anisa and the boy. I had some work that needed to get done, but I had all day to do it. No biggie. Little by little, however, I began to feel more and more compelled to speak my mind. There was something bothering me; a little bug nesting under my skin that was starting to make me itch – uncontrollably. I tried to bite my tongue… I really did. I had hoped that I could maintain enough self control to preserve the next two weeks, and potentially enjoy a nice, romantic weekend with the boy. I had hoped that I could suppress these unyielding feelings of contempt, irritation, frustration and bitterness. I had done so well. I had hidden the small voice in my head that constantly sought to yell “WHY AREN’T WE TOGETHER YOU SILLY, SILLY MAN?!” I had rationalized, and theorized and come to accept that what I wanted from him – what I sometimes felt I needed and deserved – was tabled for the moment. It wasn’t to say that we would never be in relationship… it just wasn’t an option for now.

Basically, I was good.

But today, for some odd, strange reason, I couldn’t keep it to myself. I was restless. Agitated. And, I needed to get it out. So, in classic passive-aggressive mode, I began a gchat conversation (of all things) to address the issue. A mere two weeks before Valentine’s Day. I was putting my “romantic weekend” at risk as well as this friendship-like-thing… or whatever it was. But I didn’t care. So I went at it.

Unfortunately, the more he pushed me for answers as to why I felt the way I did, the fewer I could come up with. Hadn’t we been through this multiple times? Yes. And, the fact that he wasn’t in a position to be in relationship right now had nothing to do with me. The fact that he dated that other tramp - eh, i mean girl - had nothing to do with me either. He had been in a different place at that time, just as I had. We hadn’t even been on speaking terms at the time… what did I expect? Was I delusional? No. My feelings were merited. They were valid. But, so were his. By the end of the brief conversation, he abruptly told me he was headed to lunch. Lost and annoyed I made myself “gchat invisible” and tried to sort out my feelings with Anisa for duration of the afternoon. The thing is, if a guy had done that to me, I probably would have reacted the same way. I can’t stand pressed guys as it is, let alone those who come off as insecure, always needing validation and reassurance. Please.

In the heat of the discussion I felt tears aching to roll down my face. Unfortunately I was at work, and in no position to break down crying over a three-year-old “friendship”. I had things to do and bills to pay. Now, I just feel silly. Why did I do that? What was the rationale? And, what am I going to do next Saturday night? If it was the middle of August, and there weren’t thousands of billboards, commercials and late night commentaries about love, would I be acting like this? NO! I’d be planning a trip for Labor Day. This sucks, man. All Saint Valentine is good for is the economy. Hallmark, Necco and Zales make a killing for two weeks and then everything is back to normal. Meanwhile, frustrated single ladies like myself unnecessarily complicate already-complicated relationships and jeopardize their questionable VDay plans. Couples already have their nice little lovey-dovey rituals… they don’t need a freaking holiday for it. Single people don’t need the pressure. It’s hard out here…

So, I move to KILL Saint Valentine. I want to break that damn bow and arrow. I want to pick apart his wings.

Who’s with me?