Mine and D's first valentines day together was less that romantic. It was less than valentines day. It was awful. I'm still annoyed with him about to be honest.
W had only been together about nine months and this was the first valentines day I had ever been in a real relationship where you spent time together and got cards/gifts. So I wanted it to be special. I wanted it to be romantic. Now, I am not a romantic person. I'm also not a creative person lol. So the fact that I wanted to do something like this is pretty out of character for me. I should have known it wouldn't turn out the way I wanted it to.
I sent the two kids to my grandparents house, I had my mom come down to my house (she was living with them at the time) and help me make the garlic chicken I'd planned on making. I think you need to remember that I was 21 and I was still new to cooking for a family.
I pulled out my good china, I set the table, burnt candles, I had everything all set up.
D had pool that night, which worked out for me because I was trying to surprise him with all of this so I didn't mind that he wouldn't be home.
So dinner gets made, house is clean, kids are gone, I'm dressed in something other than pajama pants. I was pretty excited for him to come home that night see what I'd done. So I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
By about 9pm I was getting a little annoyed because he should have been home already.
I think it's important to note that at the time, we were living in the town I grew up in. Everyone knew me. Everyone knew my family. This comes in to play in a minute.
By about 10pm I'm more than pissed off and I call one of the wives of the guys on his pool league. She says he husband has been home for a while, which means D was still at the bar. Now, remember that we had only been dating for nine months, in this time I had never seen him drink but I had just been a relationship with a guy with a drinking problem (and then one with a cheating and lying problem), so the first thought in my head was this asshole is getting drunk on valentines day.
In this small town we were living in there were three bars. I knew he wasn't leaving town so I put on my coat, and flew up to the main part of town in a fit of I'm going to kill him. As luck would have it, the first bar I went to is the one I found him in.
I walked through the door, seeing many people I knew and whom knew me. I didn't have to come all the way in, I just scanned the faces at the bar not finding him. I moved to the pool tables, there he was. I stood there for all of maybe 2 minutes, if that, and then walked back out the door slamming it behind me and drove home.
Home to where I had left the food sitting out on the table. I was so pissed off I couldn't even see straight. I wanted zero to do this night at this point. So I put my pajamas on, and sat down in the living room to fold a load of laundry. Within minutes of me sitting down, D walked through the door. He saw the food on the table and he saw me in the living room folding laundry and watching TV.
He of course apologized for not coming home when he should have. He knew I was planning something because he had been the one to pick up the food I'd made. But even knowing that he still stood at that damn bar long past when his games ended.
If I remember right he convinced me to come sit down and eat with him.
It's almost fourteen years later and I have never made him another valentines day dinner. Not once. If he wants dinner that night, we go out. And he has never pulled anything like that with me again on valentines day.
Nope.
-Kristin
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