Valentine's Ashes

“What is love?

Oh baby, don’t hurt me…

Don’t hurt me…no more…”

- What Is Love – Haddaway (1993)

It is interesting to me to reflect on the fact that the moment I saw this challenge – Love Unraveled – I thought of this mid-90s hit and its very bitter heart within the beats. Looking over the lyrics, it feels as though I am not alone in my feelings about love.

“No, I don’t know why you’re not fair.

I give you my love, but you don’t care.

So what is right and what is wrong?

Gimme a sign…”

Signs do matter, I think.

I am also considering the fact that I am writing this not only on the traditional Lupercalia celebration date, but also on that particular holiday created by an institution that took over the latter and gave it to a saint. It is Ash Wednesday, the day when devout Catholics will have a black cross daubed on their foreheads and freak out all those who are not in the know. This also indicates, after a very fat Tuesday, that Lent has begun. More Catholic dogma for you: for forty days, you are supposed to give up something that you are devoted to in order to prove your devotion to the faith.

Sometimes, the timing can be perfect.

Denial and desire; lust and leaving things alone… All of these things come together on a day so obviously created for the business world that I should not even feel cynical about the lines of people I see at florists and liquor stores with hope in their hearts and less money in their wallets and purses. If I approach this as a private moment, I feel left out; if I cared a great deal about someone outside of my own family, I would feel worse. I stand to lose a lot by even daring to approach this challenge, but…I cannot resist.

“Reflect on a moment when love was tested, challenged, transformed, or a source of pure joy in your life.”

Umm… Pass.

“Celebrate the beauty of enduring love, whether it is through a romantic, platonic, or familial connection.”

Yawn.

“Explore the complexities of unrequited love…”

Okay…

“…or lost love…”

Interesting…

“…and the lessons learned from such experiences.”

Bingo!

*

No names will be used here, and if I do get tempted to do so, I will be using creative pseudonyms that may reveal just a little too much. It may be a little difficult to get through this with my own restrictions, but I have to tell this tale.

I met her while I was a graduate student at university. I had just had orientation, as had many of us who soon nicknamed it ‘disorientation’. There was a lot to know and handle, but I felt that the school had been fair about what we needed to do next: housing, food, libraries, health services (more on this later), and life as a student in this new city. I had visited the town several years earlier, but I was now back as just another number on campus. I had a place that I shared with other students in a triplex quite far from the heart of the city. My concerns were all about food and rent (the lectures did not seem as daunting as my landlord). There were loans to clear and forms to fill out. That was why I was in the Student Services office, waiting to speak to someone about a little assistance.

“I really like your scarf.”

Yes, I can remember the first thing she said to me. You tend to remember a girl speaking to you out of the blue when all of your roommates have more success with dating and you wonder if you are, perhaps, doing something wrong. You notice a girl whose face makes you reconsider what you want from life (maybe just being an academic debating the merits of Victorian vs. Modern literature is not enough). You wonder if you did the right thing by wearing a multi-coloured scarf with its tribute to African culture (red, gold and green).

“Where did you get it?”

I mentioned Japan, a discreet little haberdashery, and my plans with my degree. She mentioned that she was single, and I really do not recall the rest of what she said.

And yes, I fell.

*

Did it work out, you ask?

Well, let me tell you another story: we had become quite a pair when we hit the gym, indoor track (always fun to have her kick my ass), and ran into each other - oh, so accidentally - on campus. I was working and going to school, so I was rarely there. Seeing her made my day and consider what I wanted out of life.

And then there was the night that changed everything...

There was a once-a-week event that I enjoyed at different clubs around the city. A collective known as K************ (keeping that a secret) would play improvised shows around the city on different nights. They had one show in the middle of the week that was perfect for my schedule, and I mentioned the musical event to her. She was ecstatic, begging me to meet her downtown so that we could go to the event together.

Yeah, together...

So, I went home, told myself not to screw this up, changed and went out to a stop...and saw her holding hands with another guy.

No, I did not throw a tantrum or scream about the unfairness of it all. I had never made it clear to her that I wanted her to be my girlfriend, so that was all on me. Worst of all, he was actually a nice guy. And we all headed off to the show.

And after the show, she asked me to walk her home...with this guy.

Now, this was odd. It had been a fantastic performance, with the crowd dancing, laughing at the jokes both musical and verbal, and everyone in a wonderful mood. Even I felt happy, despite what I had just seen. And before I could get out of there, she grabbed my arm and made her request.

I have had some awkward nights in this city and others. I have been to shows that have blown my mind and felt as though I was floating once I left the club, cabaret, bar, field or underpass where it took place. That night, my feet were very much touching the ground. The gentleman on her other arm was also feeling very odd about it. But we did our duty. We were both gentlemen...and then, she said ''Good night'' and walked up to her place with him. Like I said, I had to admit my feet were very much touching the ground, and they ended up killing me with the rest of my trip home (subway and bus service had ended).

And here's the punchline.

A few days later, after my feet and ego began to recover, I am back at the gym, trying to stay in some sort of physical shape to recover from where my mind is at. And who do you think I run into?

The other guy.

Again, he was a nice guy. We laughed and talked about our time at school. And I finally congratulated him on his relationship.

He stopped me.

''Oh, no. We're not together. That was just something she does with guys.''

I felt the ground sink around me.

There was a lot I could have said. He told me it was not sexual in any way, but she would make it clear that she wanted to have us all in her life.

Was I mature enough for this?

Could I play this game?

Well, I tried. I stayed friends with her, even after she decided to leave and head back to her home and eventually move to a city near my old hometown (another sign?). We are both single. We are both aware we are single. But there are just some things I cannot go back to.

*

So, I guess there is some lesson there. I have been single for a long time now, and I really do not feel compelled to be in a relationship. Just don't lump me in with incels, redpilling, or the other online hate against women out there. There would be no point in blaming all women for this very important life lesson.

And just think: this is one of those difficult stories that I am actually willing to share online.

Makes you think...

*

Thank you for reading!

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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