Member-only story
It counts as a holiday. Or at least it did back then when I was seeking male companionship. You see — I was ‘in a relationship’. It was post-divorce and we had bought a place and were tooling along just fine.
I had made it quite clear from the start — I didn’t want to remarry. At least I thought I had. But then, he had started drinking by that fateful Valentine’s Day and I had stopped arguing with him because as we all know — that just pisses them off more.
The Ugly Drunks with their brown liquor. So perhaps he misunderstood my silence on the topic as agreement. Or perhaps I was hoping he wouldn’t remember pushing the subject in his drunken rants.
But either way. Come Valentine’s Day, at one of the most expensive restaurants in town, on bended knee he went. And out came a beautiful ring.
The entire place had eyes on me.
So I said — yes — because I am not really a bitch and was not going to emasculate the man in public.
But we were certainly going to have a chat about this later.
And chat we did. Or I did. Then he raved. Then I had a panic attack. And the whole thing deteriorated into THE FIGHT which would lead to the final straw a month or so later. And The End. The Blessed End of the whole damn thing.
