And I’m still bitter about it.
Just in case you weren’t aware, a little holiday called Valentine’s Day rolled around last week. Some of you celebrated, others ridiculed. Some had a valentine, others didn’t.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t enjoy the holiday to its full dinner-movie-gifts-and-then-sex potential. I got no four-course dinner or box of truffles. I wasn’t taken to see the star-packed feature film with the same name as the holiday. I didn’t even get a fucking card.
But Mario, you say. I was expecting you to have like, the greatest Valentine’s Day ever. You and Arthur are so cute and so in love. What happened?
Well, everyone, there was one little thing that got in the way of my perfect Valentine’s Day blowout: My boyfriend Arthur is Chinese.
That said, yet another holiday took place last week. This year, the moon decided to be a boyfriend-stealing floozy and have its new year fall on none other than Feb. 14. Arthur couldn’t be with me on Valentine’s Day because he was in San Francisco celebrating the Lunar New Year with his family.
So since I couldn’t share my story last Monday due to our observance of President’s Day (gee, what a clusterfuck of holidays), I’m doing it now.
Of course, I didn’t hate Arthur for going home to his family. I knew the tradition was very important. He should spend the holiday with those who love him most. I understood.
But why couldn’t the moon be just a little more courteous? Valentine’s Day is always Feb. 14. Always. The moon should have checked her Moleskine planner, noticed that Cupid had already reserved the date for his big party and plan the new year to begin on some other day.
I was sad at first. I tried my hardest to convince Arthur to stay. But my attempts were feeble. Not even my heaviest artillery – this cute little pout-and-puppy-eyes face I make – could get him to stay. Usually, that look gets him to let me buy the latest Elle or Vogue on our way out from Safeway (because even when I’m beyond broke and barely have enough for groceries, I would buy a fashion mag over veggies any day). But this time, he had to say no to me.
When it came time for him to leave, I tried to make it as quick and painless as possible. I didn’t want him to feel bad for leaving. So it was a simple kiss, a quick spank on the butt (he always gives me a little spank when we part ways) and he was gone.
On V-Day, I ended up accompanying my roommate Belle, who had yet to get her boyfriend a gift, to the mall. I’ll tell you right now, it was a terrible idea.
Couples of all shapes and sizes were out in full force, slapping their togetherness in my face. Guys were awkwardly stepping into Victoria’s Secret behind their girlfriends. The line at See’s Candies put the lines at Disneyland to shame. It seemed like my roommate and I made the only boy-girl pair that wasn’t holding hands or making out.
If Arthur were there, I’d be writing a completely different column. I live for all that gushy stuff! But this time, I wanted to slap every girl who was holding some sort of gift in her hands and every guy who bought it for her.
I went home in a bad mood. By 8 p.m. I was already settled in bed, watching Jenny McCarthy’s Dirty Love and honing all my pent-up rage into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.
Then it hit me. I was horribly aware of how pathetic I must have seemed. And all because I couldn’t celebrate the one day of the year reserved for love?
Sure, it would’ve been amazing to have Arthur take me to dinner and shower me with gifts. But the thing is, all that shouldn’t be reserved for Feb. 14.
That box of chocolates we enjoy now just becomes unsightly love handles later. Those teddy bears get shoved under the bed or on a high shelf. That bouquet of flowers just withers and dies. But the love that you and your valentine are celebrating – that’s what lasts.
While I’m not opposed to any of those things, none of them are necessary. All I need is Arthur – and not just on Feb. 14.
I’ll need him on Mar. 14 and 14 days after that. I’ll need him on the first day of summer and on the first day of school. I’ll need him on a day I don’t feel well and on the happiest day of my life. Arthur alone is something I should celebrate all day, every day.
So I didn’t have the “perfect Valentine’s Day” many of you thought I would. I didn’t have one period. But I’m okay with that now. Why? Because Arthur made it up to me with some great sex.
MARIO LUGO was inspired to write a “Dear Mario” column. So if you have a relationship/sex question or need some advice, e-mail him at firstname.lastname@example.org and maybe your question will be answered in next week’s column.