This is a day for lovers they say, for people in love who crave each other or who stick together nevertheless. The rose, the date the chocolate mousse and the usual gift or marriage proposal. Note to all boyfriends: let Valentine´s Day alone, just do the dinner part and leave the marriage proposal for another day, will you?
Proposing on Valentine´s Day is tacky. Let´s name other tacky things that people do when in love: go to Venice, go to Paris, go to Rome, get matching tattoos, eating strawberries and champagne at a hotel room, make love on top of rose petals spread on the bed, get a couple´s massage, feed each other food in front of other people (gross) kiss with tongue at a restaurant after a toast, proposing at a restaurant, pick up your date in a limousine.
There are so many things….I have done them all. Well, except for the tattoos, crocodile and Mrs. Reggaeton did that…what can I do? They are tackier than me.
The thing is. A year ago I was sitting at the kitchen counter with a cigarette and a cup of coffee at the crocodile´s pond and I felt so restless that I opened my laptop and started to write this blog. Hours after the first post “He was so damn perfect that I left him for a crocodile” I had over 350 visits and messages from women all over the world. Who is this crocodile and why have we all had one in our lives?
Crocodile is any men, who has taken a woman for granted.
He is the guy that do not buy you flowers, does not remember your birthday, doesn’t ask how your day was, does not show any interest to meet or spend time with your friends, or you, for that matter. He is the asshole who stands you up at an island when he is supposed to meet you there for a few days, the one that asks for attention when he is sick but does not even lay next to you when you are sick. He always picks up the movie, tells you that you are fat after deliverying his baby and if you have post partum depression, he wakes you up in the middle of the night and calls you a bad mother.
A year ago I was alone on Valentine´s Day, writing this blog.
I did not go out to dinner a year ago, I got a lousy T-shirt and one yellow rose one day later. Crocodile style. The man who managed to hurt me and make me feel inadequate and insignificant even when pretending to be doing the right thing.
This year I will buy myself flowers, lots of them. I will toast to myself at home with a glass of nice wine named after me and a big smile on because the best is yet to come. Maybe I will be alone, maybe not.