What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?
You’re not doing anything for Valentine’s Day!
I used to hate Valentine’s Day. If you have no lover in your life, some people make you feel almost unloveable. That is why it is a very dangerous time for singles. A time you could easily make a stupid move and call back your ex.
I have been there. Wrong move.
So, last year, I decided to spend the best Valentine’s Day of my life, and I did, alone!
I decided to clean my house.
Already, I hear some of you say : « cleaning? get a life ».
STOP! Do not close my post!
You do not have a clue about what kind of cleaning I am talking about. Stay for a while. You might enjoy yourself on this Valentine’s Day.
Why not have a drink while you read. That, I will wait for you.
Let us go back to my story : cleaning.
If you are like me, your house is full of things you received from ex-lovers.
So, last year, on Valentine’s Day, I decided to chase all pieces of clothing ever received from ex-lovers.
Everything went. Exit :
- old jogging pants
- wool suit from Paris that never got out of style
- t-shirts from Portugal, Acapulco, Cancun, Miami, Guadeloupe, Nassau…
- silky lingerie that made man flip
- sweaters that were so ugly that showed the guy’s lack of taste in clothing
- pyjamas that did nothing to appeal to a man’s hormones
- black dress that was like a second skin… ohhhhh! that one I almost kept.
Again, I hear you saying : « What’s so fun about throwing clothes? »
Who said I was throwing out those clothes just like that?
No, no! I had better plans!
I piled all those pieces of clothing, gifts of the past, treasures of long gone love stories, on the sofa in the living room.
I put some music. Piano. Glen Gould. Opened a Veuve Clicquot champagne.
That is when I got hit by that flow of burning emotions. As if Cupid had pierced my heart with a knife instead of a love arrow. The pain was so intense I just wanted to kill it.
I ran around the house searching something to relieve me from that incruciating pain.
Then I saw it looking at me ; waiting for my hand to grip it and end it for good.
My Singer scissors.
I felt like an angel flying in the sky. Free, completely free from pain, at last!
I grabbed the scissors. Gulped my glass of champagne. Listened to Gould while staring at my pile of clothes.
Then it was time to end it.
I lifted my scissors, asked God to forgive me for what I was about to do. Then, with the force of my will, I plunged the scissors into the pile of clothes. Once, twice, hundred times, till there was only pieces of material remaining, and till I collapsed on the floor, breathless for having laughed too much about what I had just done.
I had killed clothes!
Again, I asked God to forgive me for not donating those clothes.
And, last but not least, I made a ball of those past love stories and I kicked it in the sky, damn it!