I’m making a suggestion.
You know what’s coming up don’t you? Yep. Valentine’s Day. It seems to me the world is made up of three kinds of people. Category One is for those for whom Valentine’s Day is a BIG full blown deal they celebrate with their romantic partner. Category Two includes those who are in a relationship but, frankly, can take it or leave it. The third category is for those who get very irritated and depressed about Cupid’s Day because it inevitably makes them feel that they are single LOSERS who don’t have a significant other. It’s a day on which the entire freaking country conspires to make you think you’re an oddball of the highest order because you’re on your own.
I admire those singles who throw wonderful Valentine parties for themselves and friends. Now THAT is the way it should be, why limit it to romance I think, but it just isn’t the way the rest of the world seems to feel.
I myself admit to having a certain genius for breaking up with boyfriends on or before holidays, particularly Valentine’s Day. So I have spent more than my fair share of time over the years in Category Three. Actually, it’s probably only happened twice over the years before Valentine’s Day but it generates enough misery that it FEELS like it has happened twenty times at least.
Let’s face it, is there anything that can make you feel more alone in this world than being very single on V-Day? Everywhere you go are little hearts, cupids, candy displays, amorous couples, and red, red roses. The radio is constantly blaring about where you can take your sweetheart for that special (and usually expensive) Valentine’s dinner. Make your reservations NOW or you run the risk of really looking like a loser because there is nowhere but the local burger joint left with space for you and your honey bun. The online dating sites are running ads nonstop.
Ugh, it’s depressing. You feel like the weird little kid in your elementary school class who got exactly two valentines in her little box. One from her mother and one from her teacher. Horrible.
BUT, this year I think I have moved up to Category Two. Consider this as your official newsflash that I am, miraculously, in a relationship. YES, unbelievably (I mean REALLY spookily unbelievably) literally a few days after my sad little tale, The Dating Dead Zone, published on Midlifebloggers.com late last summer, lamenting my seemingly permanent single status and despairing that there could ever be a man out there who wasn’t too flakey, too short or too, yes I’ll say it, too old (I know this sounds horrible but I have very personal reasons for this) to be of interest to me, a man popped on the scene. It was downright weird the way that happened.
My friend Karen over at Midlife’s a Trip told me it’s because I cleared out the space by venting. Whatever. It happened.
And, it isn’t just any man, either. I haven’t said anything before now because I was afraid I would jinx it, but he’s had enough time now, five months, to experience many if not all of my peculiarities, and I’ve seen enough of him to have a pretty good sense of him, so I think I can actually put it out there now.
We are smitten. Somehow, I never expected to be (but privately dreamed of being) SMITTEN! I expected to like the guy, hoped to have lots of fun with the guy, maybe share a lot of interests with the guy, but SMITTEN?!? I don’t get smitten.
Well, apparently I do. The Tall, Slow-Talking Texan and I have a mutual admiration society going. As I speak, he’s sitting here at the table moisturizing and re-humidifying his humidors. Yes, he smokes cigars. He hunts (responsibly). Jalapeno infused tequila is his drink of choice. He drives a pickup truck but mostly to make a statement. And wears boots and jeans except when he’s wearing a suit and tie (ooh yowza!). And he wears just a tiny but killer touch of Prada cologne. He’s in the legal field and he’s smart as a whip. And he’s got a romantic streak a mile wide. I just this minute discovered while hunting for a garlic press that this is a man who has not one but TWO heart shaped cookie cutters in his drawer. Think hard-edged Marlboro man coating with a soft, creamy filling.
Not the tech geek I imagined might take my fancy, but I’ve known a lot of men like TSTT in my day and they are very familiar to me, I just “get” ‘em.
Anyway, I digress.
