Valentine's Day: A Day of Whine & Roses

If I could go back and live my life over again, I'd make some changes. The biggest thing I'd change is regarding my misguided, often desperate need to be loved. Why was I so needy? Why did I start having crushes on boys when I was in Kindergarten! Was I already a victim of bedtime stories of the Princess being rescued by the Prince or that one day Mickey Dolenz of The Monkees, would marry me?

Why did I care?

I don't know.

What does this have to do with Cats? This is a cat blog, after all!

Nothing. In my defense, it IS my Blog and I can stray from the topic if it's particularly important to do so; or if I just damn well feel like it.

Neil Parrott. He was the first boy who ever kissed me. He kissed me during recess. We were in First Grade and he chased me around the playground until I ran into the corner of a building, with my back to him. He kissed the back of my head, then ran off. I was mortified.

My family was living in Ohio, in a tiny town where WE were the ONLY Italian (pronounced, Eye-Tal-Yan) people they may have ever SEEN. We had to SWEAR not to TELL ANYONE that Mother was Jewish! Big secret! It was okay that Daddy was Italian, so Mother said she was Calabrese! There was no place to get pizza, so my Mother had to make it from scratch. Every Sunday night we watched The Wonderful World of Disney and ate “pizza”-which was just dough, some tomato sauce and rectangular slices of some sort of cheese with dried oregano sprinkled on top. At the time, it was pure heaven. I can't imagine what my parents must have suffered after being accustomed to eating pizza in Brooklyn and why my Mother had to hide her true background.

After Neil, there was an appropriately long dry spell. We'd moved to another small town. This one was in Minnesota. The next kiss wasn't until I was 12 3/4 years old (which is the number I said to myself when it happened. Yes, I purposely remembered my age because I knew this moment was monumental.) I went to the movies with Brad “Jocko” Johnston. We saw “Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster.” If ever there was a more romantic movie, I couldn't say what it was. All I can remember is Brad sitting to my right. All of a sudden he stretched, then put his left arm around me. I can't remember what he said because my mind went blank, but I do remember what happened next. He leaned closer, said something, then kissed me on the cheek. Just once. I could have died and gone to Heaven right there.

My Mother picked me up when the movie was over and asked me how it went. I couldn't tell her the truth and just said it was okay. I touched my cheek and thought to myself; “I'll never be the same again.” Which also proved my Mother right-I WAS born at the age of 42. I was just an old person in a little kid's body. What kid would be so dramatic?

©1976 Judith K. Feminella. Me. The boy-crazy author, as a teenager.

After that I was done for. All I cared about were boys. Why didn't I care more about SCHOOL? I did well in school, don't get me wrong, but I could have done better and suffered less, if I hadn't always had a crush, usually on some boy who didn't give me a second look.

Which brings me to Valentine's Day.

Why do we get ourselves so wrapped up in a fabricated Holiday that demands we be showered with roses, cards, chocolates and jewelry? Why are we left feeling frantic and miserable if these things don't come to pass? Does anyone think about the flower industry, the sweets manufacturer, Hallmark or QVC? They'd LOVE for you to buy into this day of LOVE so they can grow market share! And don't forget about your credit card company, hoping to raise your “average daily balance” after you spend too much money to prove to your mate that you truly love them and that this special card or gift will prove that.

In a week or two, whatever was gotten will be eaten, thrown out or forgotten..okay maybe some of the cards will be kept in a shoebox, to be burned in the fireplace as part of a cleansing ritual, when you get divorced from your crummy husband in a few years. Oops. I'm talking about myself again.

Do I hate Valentine's Day? Certainly NOT! I love flowers and candy and sparkly things, but I'd like to receive them on another day-like the day after the holiday when they are on sale 75% off, or in a month, just completely out of the blue. Now THAT is saying; “I love you!” Or how about this...every day of the year or every few weeks or when you're having a lousy day and your partner gives you a big hug and kiss? Can't that be enough?

I LOVE romance, too. I love watching romantic comedies. I love, love, but you can't just manufacture this feeling on a particular day! The few times I really tried, planned a special day for my beloved, it utterly failed.

One year I went over-the-top. I had to make up for the Valentine's Day I cannot tell you about-only to say that I broke up with Sam! Yes, I'm a turd, but in my defense, I was INSANE. I wanted to do the ugly deed to his face and not email him or call him on the phone, so I broke his heart in person, then left to celebrate with another guy. I wither even thinking about it.

Hey, I was in my 30's and going through a divorce. What did I know about thinking about other people's feelings? Okay, okay. I was a turd. I'll leave it at that.

So here we were, years later and Sam and I are back together. I planned every moment of Valentine's evening with Sam so it would be memorable. We started with a dinner at a nice restaurant, right next to a roaring fire! I reserved the table weeks ahead of time so we could be right next to the fireplace, ensuring our meal would be EXTRA romantic. We each had a huge steak, red wine and lots of bread, as we roasted at our table. It was like the fires of Hell were fanning our meal. Sam took off his suit jacket and wiped his forehead. My face and chest glistened with sweat, but it was Valentine's Day, damn it! And this was our perfect, romantic evening!

I told Sam I had more in store for him, which is also known as sex. Basically that was probably all he needed and I didn't even have to take him to dinner, but I had to prove my love for him!

I gave Sam a gift. Red silk pajamas. He couldn't put them on until after he had a bath. I bought a book of erotic poetry and lavender bath salts because I know Sam loves the smell of lavender and he loves...never mind. I had candles lit in the bathroom. I drew Sam a nice hot bath. I was going to let him relax in the tub while I read him the dirty poems by candlelight.

Could I please have a Time Machine? Even if I only had time to say SIX WORDS before I had to come back to present day. The me of today could whizz back to that night and yell at myself: "WHAT THE F-CK ARE YOU THINKING?!"

But time machines are as made up as Romantic Holidays.

Sam got in the tub. The water was steamy. Sam's gut was about to burst from eating that huge dinner and I don't think he'd ever cooled off after suffering through the tableside inferno. I started to read. The nice hot water began to raise Sam's body temperature to uncomfortable levels. Before I could finish a poem, Sam said he didn't feel so well.

He tried to stand up, but between the wine and his soaring body temperature, he wobbled, almost falling out of the tub! I grabbed a towel and helped him get dry. He leaned heavily against me. He said he was feeling woozy, like he was going to faint.

I got him dressed and helped him into bed, but the covers were too warm so he just laid there on top of the sheets. His head was spinning. He was on fire-his skin bright pink. I grabbed a glass of cold water and made him drink it, but he only managed a few sips. I put a cool compress on his head. I asked him if he wanted me to take him to the Emergency Room, thinking to myself; “What the F-CK was I thinking?!” Sam laid there, his eyes glazed over. He quietly moaned, his voice barely audible; “No, it's okay. I"ll be...” His breathing slowed then transformed into a deep snore as his eyes closed and he fell into a coma-like sleep. I whispered to him; “I guess you don't want to have sex then.”

That was the year I almost killed Sam due to the pressure of needing to have a perfect Valentine's Day.

So before you start feeling badly because you don't have someone to ask you to "Be Mine," remember that all this Valentine stuff is created to make a buck. If you don't have a Valentine, it doesn't mean you're a loser and you'll suffer a lonely life forever.

In fact, you may be far better off, just as you are. You'll certainly have more money in the bank and you may even live longer.