Introspective Valentine's Day Post

I need to write this quickly before my feelings evaporate (I have them so rarely, you see).

Say what you will about Valentine's Day -- it's a made-up holiday, just commercialism, etc. -- I will agree with you.  I also agree that it can be fun if not taken too seriously.  I am also not used to celebrating it.

10.5 years with my former partner, and there were several reasons for the lack of celebrating:

1. Her birthday is also at the end of February
2. Her anniversary with her ex was apparently on Valentine's Day (poor planning, people!)
3. Our anniversary was in mid-December, and we usually didn't get to celebrate it until January or February (if then) due to her work.
4. We were often broke (according to her)

But we mostly said stuff like, "We're adults!  We don't need this stupid holiday!" or "Why spend money we don't have?" after giving each cards the first year or two of being together.  And that was it.  And, like our actual anniversary, it just fell by the wayside, not celebrated, not taking any extra time to appreciate each other, etc.

And that, friends, should always be a sign that things are not going that well.  It's not that Valentine's Day is a super important holiday; it's that if your partner isn't willing to take the time to think about you (on any given holiday or anniversary or at any time), that's problematic.  And it's possible to think about and appreciate your partner without spending a dime.

And that little bit of introspection (as the boytoy is, by all accounts, preparing to go overboard for our first V-Day together), sent me down a bit of a rabbit hole where I am amazed at the crap I put up with for 10.5 years.  Because it wasn't just Valentine's Day.  Or our anniversary.  Or Christmas.

Here's a story for you:

In 2015 I got a job outside of academia, a "real" office job, with a salary and benefits and vacation days.  And it paid about double (annually) what I had ever made as adjunct faculty.  So that was exciting.  So I decided, for my birthday that year, I wanted a tea party.  I had started a Silmarillion read along group, and hobbits love tea (and snacks), so I figured I would just invite those people and some others, not a big thing.

And this was a tea party at a specific place: a tea room here in the city which required a deposit for the party (because they provide tea and all the foods and the room, etc.).  So at first I inquired to see if there was any interest among my reading group and my nerdy friends because not everyone wants to (or can) pay around $20 a person for someone else's birthday.  I get that.  And I think I needed at least a dozen people (minimum reservation).

At any rate, it was going to cost me a couple hundred dollars for the deposit.  And my ex was pretty livid at the idea.  She saw it as a waste of money.  Even though we had extra money now because of my job and it was my birthday dammit; I wanted an actual party, something fun.  She eventually, begrudgingly, "allowed" me to spend the money and plan the tea party, all by myself.

And you know who didn't go to said tea party?  Her.  Because "she had to work."  It was on a Saturday afternoon, and while her job could schedule her to work on almost any day of the week, it's not like it was a last minute work day  Nor was it a last minute tea party; it was planned about a month in advance.

She could have asked off.

She could have said "I have to be done by noon" (or 2 p.m. or whatever fucking time the party was).

She could have made an effort.

But she didn't.  So I had my tea party (complete with fancy hats) and had a lovely time, despite everyone asking where my partner was and me saying, "Oh, she had to work."  No, she didn't have to; she chose to.  

And I put up with bullshit like that for the better part of ten and a half years.  Where I don't think I was ever a priority.  And I went along with it because I was trying to be an adult, because spending money and commercial things don't matter, because "it's just stuff," and "there will be other birthdays" or "other holidays" or what the fuck ever.

In my effort to be mature and to "not be a nag" I let myself also not be made to feel special or important or that someone was randomly thinking of me.  Don't let that happen to you, friends.  And definitely don't let it happen to you for a decade or more.