A Valentine's Confession

Valentine's Day may be a construction, but the feelings it represents are real.

For the past five years, maybe more, I have put on a pretty elaborate show for my friends, specifically my female ones, on or around Valentine's Day. I dress up nice, I (occasionally) slick back my hair, and I hand out roses and Hershey's Kisses, acting all the while like a French lover (which over the years I've named "Geoff"), going as far over the top as I can. The effect is usually twofold, I have observed - laughter, because the act is funny, accompanied by genuine delight and, in many cases, being touched by the gesture. I have been told by several of the recipients that they have held onto their roses for years (I give out fake ones, which I prefer to real precisely because they last). I have also seen women literally turn to their boyfriend after my schtick, and jokingly chastise them for never doing anything that romantic for them.

My reasons for doing this, I think, are also twofold. First and foremost, it has become kind of a defense mechanism. I know many friends who get very depressed on Valentine's Day, because it underlines their lack of success in the game of love, or that they are currently without a significant other. Personally, I've had too much depression to stomach any more of it. Ergo, I turn the day into a game, something I can look forward to - planning the schtick, buying the flowers, deciding the wardrobe - rather than dread.

Secondly, I view it as a release, a chance to be someone who I desperately wish I could be, but believe I never could. Like it or not (and when it hurts I hate it), I am a hopeless romantic, in an era where the hopeless romantic is going completely out of style. My attitude and viewpoint on love is now becoming solidly passe, and expressing it seems to become less and less of an option for me as time goes by.

I am now 27 years old, and I have never been in a serious relationship (or even a short-lived one), at least partially because I haven't participated much in the casual dating ritual of my generation. I keep holding out for the one, true love, I think, no matter how much I tell myself that it's a pipe dream. There's an old joke about a guy who prays every day to win the lottery and after years of praying, asks God why he hasn't won. God responds, "Hey, meet me halfway and buy a ticket!" That's me. This has nothing to do with my size, and everything to do with my confidence and attitude.

My default assumption in my relationship with pretty much every woman I know is, they won't be interested, so why bother asking? I am also very empathetic toward those female friends who have told me, on many occasions, that guys seem to relate to them ONLY as a sexual object, and that most male friendships they have made seem to come with only one goal in mind on the guy's part. So, my stance is to be very plain and clear toward those who my interests are simply friendship, and let them know bluntly that no ulterior motives exist. I don't think these attitudes on my part are a bad thing, by any means - they're part of what makes me proud to be who I am - but they are so firmly engrained in my being that when a woman comes into my life that I WOULD be interested in, my attitude is still that of "protect the friendship" rather than anything else. I never state to them outright that I wouldn't be interested (I NEVER lie about such things), but I never say I would, either. End result, nothing changes.

So Valentine's Day becomes kind of a cathartic experience for me. To my female friends who are simply my friends, I give them a rose and make them smile with a silly act. To those who I wish had a chance to be something more, it allows me to be the complete, gushing romantic I am inside, and say some of the things I never let myself say.

This year, I'd kind of backed myself into a corner with my act. Last October, for Sweetest Day, I went ahead and bought everyone a bunch of fake roses and left them anonymously, telling myself that I could get away with it if no one knew who did it. Well, Jess called me, like, 10 minutes after I left them at the Bowl, so that idea got chucked out the window. So, what could I do that could top everything else? I'm a big believer in escalating effort in traditions, a bigger and better event than before, in determining success. So, this year, I decided the only way to really top everything was to make the bit completely individual for everyone who I did it to...so, I wrote everyone a poem. It was slow going, as I've never really tried it before (songwriting, sure, but parodies and funny stuff), and the end result wasn't Shakespeare or anything, but overall, nice little things. All of them were designed to be read in person to the individuals whenever possible, but in the end, only Caitlin got the full bit, as everyone else was out when I stopped by on Sunday...which I do regret.

Thing of it is, and the thing I never told anyone was...that was it. This year was my last year doing the Valentine's schtick, at least for the forseeable future. Because it occurred to me that, if I really want to change things, if I really want to make strides to make my life better, I have to stop giving myself those kinds of "outs." Sure, one day a year, I let myself be a huge softy and indulge in the romantic within me. But that means I feel safe bottling him up for the other 364. No longer. This is not to say that things done in the spirit of those gestures will not continue - the romantic side of me will remain as long as I live, I think - but rather that they will come more frequently, and directed more specifically. Because I'm tired of being a one-note individual. I want to take those chances. I want to be so in love it hurts, and do things for that woman so incredibly silly and romantic on a regular basis that...well, I would feel like I feel on Valentine's Day all year 'round. Because it's a great feeling. I miss it. Time to stop limiting myself.

So, to all my friends - thank you for indulging me for the past five years, and I hope you've enjoyed the tradition while it lasted. If I brought you a smile or made you blush, I accomplished my goal, and it makes me very happy. To everyone who got a poem this year, I meant every word I said, and I hope they were enjoyed in the spirit they were written - as both a loving tribute to those who mean so much to me, as well as a grand goodbye to a time of my life.

But now, time to move on. And working hard to make Jeff just a little closer to Geoff.

Yes, I'd like to buy a few lottery tickets, please.