Whether today you are eating chocolate covered strawberries on the couch or going out with your girlfriends to Fifty Shades of Grey, I think you will be able to relate to this true story. In 2010, I received a text for Valentine’s Day from my husband of nearly ten years. Yes, can you believe it?
If you have been there or just want a quick dose of humor laced with anger, enjoy this excerpt from my memoir, When All Balls Drop entitled, “A Text for Valentine’s Day.”
To date, my worst Valentine’s Day ever happened that year.
I was bombarded with loads of Valentine’s wishes via Facebook, marketing e-mails, mass texts, and even random couples sending save-the-date cards. Nauseous from my gut-wrenching anger, I felt like puking, but instead I threw my coffee cup across the room. From my Macbook, I ranted, “Those of us who don’t have anyone or worse, a cheating SOB husband, certainly don’t want to be reminded all day that we have nobody special. Please tell your partners, not the world.”
Then I got up, walked across the room, and threw all of the cards in the trash.
After getting off my soapbox and cleaning up the broken coffee mug, I received a text from AJ that threw me into a deeper level of distress. It simply read, “Happy V-Day!”
So, I paused. Really? This was what I deserved after ten years? A text for Valentine’s Day? I didn’t know what to do. Should I respond, should I ignore it, or what? I certainly didn’t want to respond in a happy fashion—“Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear husband and love of my life!”—because it wasn’t a joyous Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t even remotely close to my thoughts at the time. And he was not a dear husband. Neither did I want to be truthful about how sad, depressed, and outright angry I felt or I’d text, “Thanks for making this the worst Valentine’s Day ever!”
What I needed was a text-activated taser; just a slap in the face wouldn’t do. So with the only iota of civility I had left, I sent back, “Thanks. Got your text.”
I couldn’t believe it. Was I asking too much for Valentine’s Day from my husband? Oh hell no! I wanted him to fight for me. Despite our agreement to give me time, I wanted action that showed I meant more to him than a text. Pick up the damn phone and call me, buy me chocolates, send me flowers, or all of the above.
I wished the day had already ended.
Happy F****** Valentine’s Day!
So grab another chocolate covered strawberry, a glass of wine, and continue reading more of When All Balls Drop by getting your copy. It will be a great dose of humor for you on this Valentine’s Day, better than Fifty Shades of Grey by far.
Here’s to looking up!