My highly unscientific survey has found that people walk out of there either:

1. Realizing there has never been anything attractive about the other person and filing for divorce immediately
2. Not feeling any different about their partner, nothing got fixed and end up getting a divorce
3. For the first time in a long time agreeing with their partner about one thing: They hate the counsellor
4. One person feels like progress has been made and the other feels like they were just run over by a stream-roller

Apparently #3 is the best case a few couples went from there and are still together. My marriage fell into #4 and I ended up ‘Flat Princess’.  While we did agree we hated her, I hated her for making me feel like shit, he hated her for making me cry every week, we weren’t in enough agreement there to fix any problems.  The counsellor actually said I need to learn to express myself better. <insert visual of my friends with their jaws dropped and looking stunned>  She said I was closing off my feeling and that the Prince wasn’t a mind reader. (ummm WHAT?!?!?)  People who barely know me can tell when I’m upset, sad, happy or have a headache, but I’m too closed off for the man who has known me since I was 15 to figure this stuff out?  And trust me the man who sat next to me on that couch was not the man I married, he was channeling Dr. Phil or something, he actually was making suggestions on what the counsellor should be saying to better get through to me.  He was using his spare time to search for websites on the internet that would help him talk to the counsellor in her own language, I felt like I was getting hit from every side.  I did learn the word “Organic” as in “He says he’s changed but it doesn’t feel organic to me, only forced.”  That’s all I got out of it.

So now I have a few friends, who I know mean well, suggesting I go to counselling for myself.  I listen to them and they share that they have gone through it or are still seeing a counsellor and it’s really helping them.  I hear what they are saying but all I can think of are those sessions from hell I went through.  I know I have trust issues, I know I have issues being a doormat, I know I have issues putting myself first.  I also have a distrust of counsellors, something about getting paid per visit to help me fix what’s in my head.  Where is their incentive when once I feel better I stop visiting and they stop taking my money?  Ok, I’m having the same problem with lawyers who get paid hourly, how do I know he won’t be working slower just to drain my bank account?  Did I mention trust issues?

They tried to make me go to counselling, I said no, no. no…

Apologies to Amy Winehouse

Odd fact spell checkers keep saying “internet” is spelled wrong, they want to capitalize it or hyphenate it.

Valentine’s 1983

OK this one wasn’t bad, this is when I had my first Valentine.  10th grade, French Club did this carnations thing, you buy a heart and send a carnation to someone during homeroom. I was in French Club, the Friday before Valentine’s we are in a classroom after school sorting out the hearts by homeroom and one of the girls says “Hey, Princess, you have a heart, want to know who?” Duh, of course I did at that point everyone else already looked. So there was no surprise Monday morning, but I spent all weekend thinking about it.  Oh, the heart, was from The Prince and he signed it Love.  We had first period class together and we spoke a little but really not that much, so I thought maybe just a friend thing, but why sign it Love?  Long story short, he asked me on my first date for that weekend, contingent on him passing his driver’s test that Wednesday.

1984

The Prince and I broke up 6 weeks before Valentine’s. I’m still in French Club, he sent a Heart to a Freshman.  Did I mention he was a Senior at this point? I spent the day crying or trying not to.

1985

Alone. A week later I met someone who I started dating and will forever be known as My Ex-Asshole.  I could write a novel about how that guy fucked me over.

1986

Still with the Ex-Asshole, He was homeless, his Father kicked him out, and living in various dorm lobbies at my college or his car.  I found this out later, he was a pretty good stalker didn’t see him following me to classes during the week, but he amazingly showed up after my last class every Friday.

1987

Ex-Asshole gone, trying to rebuild life, dating the Hippy Wanna-be.  I think he got stoned and I did homework, how romantic.

1988

Not in College, but living in the same town as my college. Broke up 6 weeks before with the One That Got Away. Apparently New Year’s and Break-ups go hand and hand with me. Anyway, I spent it alone as my best friend was with the boyfriend of the semester and I chose not to be the 3rd wheel that night.

1989

Back in college, Just started dating the Writer. Relationship too new to celebrate.

1990

Technically still dating the Writer and living at home 100 miles from him.  You see he didn’t want to ruin my Valentine’s but he also didn’t want to lie to me, so no card, no phone call until the 15th.  He dumped me.  Yes, he spent Valentine’s with his new girlfriend while his not-quite an ex-girlfriend was crying herself to sleep

1991

Spent the day with The Kid (he was 18, I was 23) got home late, next morning my Father told me.  His brother died suddenly of a heart attack. First time I saw my Dad cry. He had lost 2 of his other brothers already but this was his twin brother. 3 weeks before their 51st birthday. My Aunt was widowed at 45.  She never recovered from the loss.  She did this past January. She spent the last 18 years mourning the loss of her husband. Unfortunately she spent most of that time drunk and careless smoking most likely was the cause of the fire that killed her.  I can never imagine loving one person so much that their absence from your life would destroy yours.

1992

Second First Valentine’s with The Prince. Can’t remember anything about it, probably just dinner, movie, sex in his room at his parent’s house… typical date for the next 2 years.

1993 & 1994

See above

1995

First Valentine’s Married.  He bought me Roses. This is the thing with me and flowers: I never get them.  In the course of 26 years I have gotten them less than 10 times from The Prince.  So when he buys them, I wonder what happened. I’ve received Long Stem Roses 4 times in my life, once from my Godfather on my 16th birthday the other 3 from The Prince over the 17 Valetine’s he has been with me.

1996-2006

I have no clue what happened on any of these Valentine’s. I was married, romance died. I notice most cards are bought on his way home from work (I see the receipts)

2007

First Valentine’s I spent looking at the card at Hallmark trying to find one that didn’t promise undying love.  They don’t make them. 2 weeks before I said we need marriage counselling he took that as a great shock.  This scene was repeated for the Valentine’s, Anniversaries and Christmases over the next 2 years.

2008

I should have left month before, I should have stuck to my original gut feelings, but I didn’t.  I would do anything in my power to make this Valentine’s go away forever, but I can’t.  What happened is too personal for me to explain here.  Suffice to say it rattled me. I felt trapped and guilty for a long time after. Someday maybe I will get the courage to write about it here but right now I can’t.  It was the worse day in my life up to this point.  I have been dumped, had deaths in my family, spent the most forgettable days in my life on Valentine’s but last year will be the one that scars me.

2009

I have banned Valentine’s from this house.

So there, 26 years in less than 1000 words. Not a good Valentine’s among them.  I doubt I will ever have an enjoyable one in my life. Why should this one day be different than any other day? If you love someone why wait until February 14th to show them? It’s just a day like the other 364 during the year. If you have to be told to show your love by card stores and florists, what kind of love is that?

So will someone tell me where I can have coma induced on the 13th and woken on the 15th?

Two years later I started dating a guy, who I will call The Geek. Ok, in my past there are plenty of guys who fit this description.  I guess I could call him the Bike Racing, Germaphobe, Momma’s Boy, Geek, but for these purposes and because it will sound cute later, he’s just The Geek.  Can’t remember how I met him, can’t remember what attracted me, but I do remember him.  There were dates and there was talking and there was pretty good sex, which if anyone met him, they wouldn’t believe, but I digress.  This was a relationship, he even took me to New York City for a weekend to meet his mother and see the city he grew up in.   I kind of blame him for my love of loft apartments and exposed bricks.  We had a lot of fun for the time it lasted, I can’t remember why it ended exactly.  I know I was in the phase in my life where if I didn’t see it lasting I would call it quits before things got to serious and he was the first guy in a long while to make it past 2 weeks.

The thing about The Geek, he was sharing an apartment with The Greek.

After the first morning I walked out of the shower to see The Greek, he realized I wasn’t just a passing fancy for The Geek.  Apparently The Greek felt the need to talk to The Geek about me after I left that morning.  He said to The Geek “She’s fun to play with but she’s not the type you settle down with.”  When The Geek told me that I was speechless.  That was coming from a guy who has panties in his bedroom displayed like trophies (mine were not there).  So considering the source, I shouldn’t pay it much mind, but it stuck with me. 

Why would he think that?  He never gave me an honest chance.  Was he jealous that The Geek had a steady girlfriend?  Was he jealous that she was one of his play toys?  Was it that he knew he never gave me a chance and maybe he could have a steady girlfriend?  Or was it me.  Maybe he was right, maybe I wasn’t the type to settle down, maybe that’s why I kept breaking up with perfectly good guys.  Maybe that is why I kept dating ones who I knew weren’t going to work out.  Those words have been haunting me for 20 years.  Were they haunting me when I got engaged? Probably.  They were probably haunting me from the moment I kissed The Prince for the second first time.  And as I think about starting life over again, they are now screaming at me louder than before.