Normally, I hate Valentine’s Day.  I usually hate all holidays that set me up with lofty expectations of grand romantic gestures because I am inevitably disappointed.  My husband doesn’t do grand romantic gestures.

He thinks about them.  He almost was gonna do them.  He just - well - doesn’t.

None the less, I woke up this morning in a good mood and headed off to the gym, determined to block out any signs of hearts and flowers and pinks and reds and what-nots (which is a shame because I love pink and look smashing in red).  Anyway, I’m rockin’ out to my iPod (the teeny tiny cute one that clips on to you - LOVE me shuffle, love it) and working as hard as I can to lose my breath.  I get my work out in and work up a sufficient ass melting stink.  Time for cool down.

I was on the treadmill for about 30 seconds before I heard this song crying in my ears (the John Michael Montgomery version, not the All-4-One version).

I Can Love You Like That (I know you lazy bastards don’t click links either).  The song that damn near killed me ten years ago.  The song that I played on repeat so many times over a 3 day period that my mother had every suicide hotline number in the tri-county area on speed dial.  The song that had at one time embodied my first true love, and eventually came to represent my first devastating heart break.

The song that, to this day, when I hear it makes me respond out loud, “love me like that my ass you no-good cheating prick.”

Nothing gets me in the Valentine’s Day mood like chanting “no-good cheating prick” out loud, yet to myself, yet audible to those around me… on a treadmill.

Except for the song that came next.  The other Siren Song To Those Who Have Felt Left Behind By People They’d Loved Beyond Any Reason.  Dixie Chicks’ When You Were Mine (again, I never underestimate your laziness) always makes me cry.  It pulls out every emotion that being cheated on makes you feel.  The betrayal.  The loss of control.  The feeling that everyone knew but you.  The total and overwhelming helplessness as you watch your dreams walk away because of the actions of someone else.

I said I wasn’t gung-ho about Valentine’s Day, oh Music Gods.  I didn’t say “beat me to an emotional pulp with anti-Valentine’s Day sentiments.”  Damn.

Needless to say, I wasn’t feeling the sticky-sweet-love vibe.  I was, instead, thinking about all of the times that “love” had made me cry.  And, of course, I started to think about my husband.

And I thought about the fact that I had ripped on him the last few days about not calling the plumber, or remembering appointments, or being motivated enough to follow through on ANYthing.  I remembered how I told him how unhappy I was.  I thought about how angry I’d been when he’d given me his classic Blank Stare.

And I realized that not once, at any point in all of my rantings and ravings, had it crossed my mind that I would push him too far and he would leave.

Not once did it occur to me that if I pissed him off badly enough, he may go looking for easier love and affection elsewhere.

At no point did I even stop to think that I might just be bitchy enough to push him away.

Because I couldn’t.  Because he wouldn’t.  Because although he doesn’t even know the meaning of the word Chivalry, he is the epitome of the word Commitment.  Because even though he will never be able to pull off the planning of a romantic getaway, we both know that neither of us is going anywhere.

Because, despite my bitching and mood swings and quick temper and the constant “poor husband” lamenting of strangers and co-workers (mine, not his) - he loves me.

Without flowers.  Or candy.  Or love letters.  Or cards.  He loves me.

I think, for today, I’ll let that be enough.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

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Posted in Love and Marriage Tagged: cheating, commitment, marriage, relationships, valentine's day