Valentine’s Day Disasters of the past

Valentine’s Day Disasters of the past

I know in my previous near-death post I said I wasn’t going to beat on about how Valentine’s Day sucks, but since I know that some of you live Vicariously through me, I’ve written about some of my V-day disasters. I’ve even given them ratings: 1, being not so bad and 10 being completely fucking disastrous.

2006 London. "No Acknowledgement of Valentine's Day"
Whilst Dating the BFE I received nary a phone call on Valentine’s day. Flowers or chocolate, I should have been so lucky! As far our relationship went it was almost as if Valentine’s Day didn’t exist. He just called it, “Tuesday.” Keep in mind we had spent the better part of the month fucking like bunnies. There wasn’t a room in his house where we hadn’t fucked. So the Valentine’s day blackout took me totally by surprise. I later found out he spent the day trying to romance his wife. I guess he was attempting to convince her to go back with him. At the time I was livid, but now I just admire his chutzpah.
Disaster rating: 8 out of 10 broken hearts.

2005 London, Soho. "Best of the Best"
After 6 month of being girlfriend & boyfriend, The Ex and I went to a Japanese restaurant that I picked out. I picked it solely because the clientèle were Japanese. Is that wrong? During dinner he handed me a Valentine’s Day Card. I don’t remember anything about the card, but he signed it, “Best.” Not "love", "luv", or even "lurve." That was like a slap in the face. On the most romantic day of the year the best I could get was “Best.” Then he asked if we could split the bill. We later got into an argument about how he never makes the effort for me. He was a really shitty boyfriend, but now he makes a good friend. I guess this is one of those cases of clouds and silver linings. Still, when it happened, I was pretty bummed out.
Disaster rating: 6 out of 10 broken hearts.

2004 Brighton "HPY V-D 2U"
Was very casually dating this guy, Trevor. He sent me a Valentine’s Day text. Was that supposed to be romantic?
Disaster rating 3 out of 10 broken hearts.

2002 Sydney / Glebe "No hay banda"
I had started seeing this girl. Let’s call her GingerVegLez. The thing about lesbian relationships is that sometimes I can’t figure out if the girl JUST wants to be friends or if it’s more? Anyhow we got to the point where we were always hanging out, so I figured she was into me. And I was kinda into her. We made plans to spend Valentine’s day together. She asked me out, mind you. So I bought her a gift. A vegetarian cook book. And I wrote something nice on the inside cover. I don’t remember exactly what I wrote but I suppose it was quasi-romantic. We went to a quaint romantic restaurant. Then we went to see, what I thought was a romantic movie, “Mullholland Drive.” As it turned out, I had never seen a David Lynch movie before. For future reference "Mullholland Drive" is not the best initiation with Lynch. I really didn’t enjoy the film. I couldn’t figure out what it was about. Later we went back to GingerVegLez’s place. Even though we slept in the same bed, she spurned my advances. It turns out, she just wanted to be friends. Had I known that, I wouldn’t have paid for dinner, the movie and bought a gift. Even though that pretty much finished us off, weeks later, she had a house party. When no one was looking I took back the Vegetarian Cookbook that I bought her. I mailed it to Kiki in New York. GingerVegLez sent me an e-mail a couple days later. The subject of the e-mail was: Cookbook. Do you think I even bothered to read it? I just hit delete and deleted her out of my life.
Disaster rating: 5 out of 10 broken hearts.

1999 New York, Downtown, "Brazilian Nuts"
I was dating this Brazilian guy who was into tantric sex. He got me all worked up on February 13. He got me all wet and all worked up but then refused to fuck me. He wanted to tease me. He said he wanted to see how close he could get me to cum, then pull back. Yes, very cruel. He had an amazing tongue. I wanted his cock so badly. He actually got me on my knees begging for his cock, then he said no. And he said it so effortlessly. We said good-bye by kissing near the Flat-Iron building on 23rd street. He said he’d be back on Valentine’s day to finish what he started. Valentine’s day came, but he didn’t. And neither did I. In fact, I never heard from him ever again. Eduardo are you out there?
Disaster rating: 7 out of 10 broken hearts.

1993 Schenectady, "Garfield"
My first boyfriend, T. He was on the high school basketball team. Not my high school, but a rival school. He just happened to be playing against my school on Valentine’s day. I showed up for the game supporting the Rival School. Not really a good move in a small town. To make matters even more embarrassing, I bought him one of those huge 2-foot Garfield Valentine’s day cards. I gave him the card after the game. The next day, he dumped me. My little 15-year old heart was torn to pieces. Coincidently, I bumped into him 6 years later on the corner of Broadway & Mercer. He actually had the nerve to ask why I hadn’t been in touch?
Disaster rating: 9 out of 10 broken hearts.

And in case you’re wondering what I’m doing tonight, I’ve got a hot “date” with Wanda. If you have any Valentine’s day disaster stories you want to share, e-mail them to me, and I’ll read them out during our next podcast. me@naivelodnongirl.com

Sex and Edith Piaf

Naive London Girl
with special Joseph (in the Bracknell)

- "Get out!"
- Men who don't llike blowjobs
- Open relationships
- Monogamy
- Oreos and Coconuts
- Edith Piaf
- Massages with "happy endings"

The Table that I Came on

The Table that I Came on

"I would rather not go
Back to the old house
There's too many
Bad memories"
- The Smiths

It’s strange how the simplest of things can affect you in a weird way. I feel somewhat traumatized by something that happened a few days ago that should be relatively minor.

On Tuesday I had job interview across the road from the a friend’s house. I called him after the interview – since I was in the neighborhood – and asked it he wanted to go for lunch. Since he was working from home that day, he agreed.

“Come on over to the house” he said.

Since I was only across the road it took me about thirty seconds to get to his place. There’s something creepy and stalkerish about arriving at someone’s house faster than they can hang up the phone. So I stood at his door and waited. I applied some lipstick and waited some more. After standing at his door for what seemed like an eternity (Actual time: two minutes) I rang the doorbell. I realized that was the first time I’d been to his house since last year we ended our relationship – or whatever you call it. It never really had the legs of a full-fledged relationship.

He opened the door to let me in and I just wanted to turn around and walk out. It felt too creepy. It felt wrong. I was now in another woman’s domain. I could sense it. And even though she wasn’t there everything in the air, in the walls, in the atmosphere oozed her. She wasn’t there physically, but her presence was everywhere.

My friend and I greeted each other in the vestibule of his house. The last time I stood in that very spot was after a horrible date we had. The sad details aren’t important, but I do remember standing in that spot feeling full of hope because moments before he said, “I really want to work things out with you Anjelika.”

I averted my eyes to the kitchen. I focused immediately on the kitchen table; the table we fucked on. He looks at that table and just sees a glass top. I look at the table and think about the night he lifted me up onto the table, pushed up my skirt, pulled down panties and ate me out. I came so hard. His tongue was amazing. How many dinners has he had on that table since then?

Everything in that house reminded me of ‘us.’

The stairs up to his lounge: He used to finger me as I walked up the stairs.

The sofa I sat on in the lounge: New from Muji last year we broke it in hours after its arrival.

The lounge chair he sat in: I remember giving him head in that chair and snowballing afterwards. There’s something electric about swapping cum from my mouth to his.

His whole house was peppered in bittersweet memories and I suddenly felt confronted with feelings I didn’t want to deal with. Not then, not at that moment. We only spent a few minutes in the house before leaving. After we exited he immediately made a phone call. For the next twenty minutes while walking to the restaurant waiting for him to end the call, all I could think about was being in that house. I wasn’t ready for the onslaught of feelings.

Even though we were walking together I felt very alone dealing with those feelings. It put me in a rather melancholy mood for the rest of the day. But what can you do?

I persevere.

And move on.