Be My, Be My Baby

The world according to Eros

Life as a romantic isn't quite a bed of roses. Especially in this day and age. It seems that everyone has lost what the real meaning is behind St. Valentine's Day,("Corporate Love Day" as some would call it) or better still, romance in general. Yes it's a big Hallmark commercial but shit, how else are the companies going to make money? Christmas is right up there with it's commercial vulnerability as is Easter, Australia Day, and any other God-forsaken public holiday. But I will die as a "martyr of love" as readers, bloggers, and anyone else prepare their artillery to shoot me down for when I say that anyone who calls it as a "Corporate Love Day", is already a cynical, jaded person who should hold off their skeptical grumblings till they at least hit the age of 70. Time enough to be sour with all that is around you in the world. Some people are growing up too quick where they are already whinging like goddamn geriatics. With my track record, I'm surprised I'm not as sour as I should be when it comes to these matters too.

I've often wondered why some people are deadset on romanticism, whilst others are just not that way inclined. I don't know where I got my supposed romantic ways from, but I swear it's a curse. You can almost hear people scream "Idealist!", "Dreamer", "Loser" when they hear your views on "what should be done" for loved ones. Fucked if I know why people look down on sending roses to your other half, pulling the chair out, asking how their day was, being honest and not bottling your feelings, massages, and hugs. At the end of the day, these cycnics are the ones who go to bed alone. You would think so wouldn't you?

Well it seems most romantics (that I've heard of or come across) cop the rough end of the pineapple. If anyone has copped the roughest part of the pineapple in their end, it's me. I will save future musings on romance to another day, in the meantime, first thing's first - Valentine's Day.

I agree entirely that you shouldn't necessarily treat your other half nicely for just one day, that is rather absurd. Also it's not that special if you're celebrating your day with pretty much the whole world simultaneously. But this doesn't mean you should ignore Valentine's Day.

It started so innocently.

As far back as I remember, since I was 9, I've managed to have a crush that I could shoot an arrow at on February 14th. Of course, ultimately, nothing eventuates due to my short-comings whereby I am either lacking in confidence hardcore, shy, or just too simply afraid of rejection. An opportunity lost, is an opportunity gone I suppose. The first victim girl that I fall head over heels for was from my drama academy in Frankston. Wow, she was gorgeous. Stranger still, we somehow always got paired up to play either boyfriend\girlfriend, husband and wife, or whatever in most plays we did. I love these ironic situations. When it came to the day, I wrote up the card, looked up her surname in the White Pages and off I sent my card to her. Conveniently, my mate lived up the road. So after a week's allowance of letting the card get to her, I brought it up with him and pointed out the house where she lived. "Um..you sure?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, absolutely!", I optimistically replied. "I don't think so. There's two old couple living there."

SHIT.

I'm sure I caused a domestic of some sort between Arthur and Martha who were just about to celebrate their 40th Wedding Anniversary, when suddenly Arthur curiously asks, "Who sent this card to you, Love? Is there something you should be telling me".

FUCKBERRIES. Stupid multiple surname listings of people in the same town.

Then there was the girl up around the corner of my street whom looked like Ocean Girl. Damn she was a hotty. Pity she had a fucked up background. But still, accepting "most people's" faults, I sent her a card. I tried hinting to her brother, my mate, to drop the hint to her that it was me. And then there was her older sister who made me dribble. Never heard from her again. Then I had a fight with the ones whom I had met her through, and the world exploded after that. And then she ran away from home...and lived for a bit in the creek over the fence..or something.

Puberty bestowed itself upon me and the chemicals went off like a firecracker in the sack. I had this huge hankering for the "girl next door". Although she lived down the hill, near the haunted house, I was fortunate enough to have gone to primary school with her, befriend her brother through that drama academy, become good mates where she would often beg if she could come along with us. Deep down I secretly wanted her to come, but I kept it quiet and her brother would say no. Some days, she would and all was well with the world. She was my Joey. But I never sent her anything and I don't know why to this day. That's one regret right there. Just before moving to where I am now, her brother and I had a gigantuan falling out because I was "unco and can't ride a skatboard" and "too smart" or some shit. Years later, friend of a friend's place I was at and this Joey came up in the conversation. Turns out she was good friends with her. Six degrees fucking hardcore! Then I heard she was pregnant.

Serious relationships welcomed themselves as a novelty (at first) in the form of a my mate's ex-girlfriend's sister. She was a complete angel. I was in love for sure. I must get further acquainted with this girl. So the days passed at the end of 2001 there and I rang her, we saw Lord of the Rings, I visited her, rang more, and things were quite spiffy. Valentine's Day reared it's head and I had a plan.
Soaring temperatures climbed up the thermometer as I rushed around to some florists at the last minute to get a bunch of Gerberas for this spunky red-head at school. I asked the receptionist to call her to the desk. I figured I would have a better chance of getting one of them in the end. I was in graphics with her as she exited the room, her friends giggling as they had talked with me about it. She came back, bewildered at who would do such a thing. Anonymous went about his graphics work.
The bell went off for lunch and I packed my gear to get a lift to Dandenong for the bus upto Wantirna. It seemed that the whole of Yr. 12 were rooting for me as they wished my luck and I went out on my Valentine's Adventure.

I still remember sweating like a pig, although I don't much in 36 heat. Feels like yesterday. Still remember that idiotic wog who squashed my flowers on the bus! Never had I freaked this hard. Nearly shat myself. I knocked on the door..only to find out that she wasn't home. Ugh! So I sat putting up with her Mum telling me all about her new laptop and the ball of fluff pulling at my shoelaces.

...and so I waited...
...and waited...
...her Mum rang to see where she is and to "get home QUICK".
Finally, she arrived.
The bundle of red roses were given to her along with the poem inside the card. I still remember sitting at the kitchen counter, watching her Mum and her fuss over which vase to put the flowers in. Then later going for a walk with her, hand-in-hand, outpouring my feelings for her. Fuck I was terrified. Every worry, every fear I had was sealed when I asked if I could kiss her and as they say, the rest is history.

(Only now though, this good person not only went to college with her, but is ironically going to the same university as her, in Tasmania! Who knows what the future could hold).

Years later, and a few more partners later - 2004 saw the biggest Valentine's Day ever. My ex girlfriend and I had broken up just before Valentine's Day but things were amended and the Valentine's Day plans were to go ahead. So it seemed.
I'm bloody glad and fortunate to have these experiences as it inevitably shapes up who you become further down the road and gives you a sense of limitations, expectations, and not out-doing yourself. But for this partner, I was planning something big. Limousine. Picnic at the Botanic Gardens. Moonlight Cinema. Breakfast in bed. Just went crazy and too far with it all. I was getting to the point of being in love with love. Luckily I realised this and we eventuated with lunch at La Porchetta where I gave her a teddy bear and yet another poem in a fancy card. It was sworn to me that my gift was on it's way. It never came and we broke up within the fortnight because little had I known, she was thinking of breaking up with me all along during that time.

Friends who know this story say it's why I'm pessimistic with Valentine's Day because "poor wittle Filmy didn't get anything". Not the case. It's this above history right here. It's the track record that says why bother? That's why I say it can get fucked. I always give something to someone and never EVER gotten anything back. Therefore it can get sodded.

That's why I froze for a straight 10 minutes when I saw a Valentine's Day card at my breakfast bowl today. Analytical bastard I am, I looked carefully at the handwriting on the front and realised that someone was trying to disguise their normal style they write with. Inside, I couldn't believe my eyes. If you know me personally then you'll know that I DO NOT get things like this. The content was brief and closed simply with no name. It made me swoon. I accused my parents of setting up a cruel joke but I know they didn't. Unless it's some cruel-hearted bastard friends who did it to cheer me up or something. Bit like Sympathy Sex.

Assuming it's for real and considering I'm normally cynical and jaded with expecting to get anything on Valentine's Day; I'm jumping over the moon. For once I don't do anything and this happens? I have butterflies to last me the next few months!