My Best Valentine’s Day Ever


Clipart image bought

Clipart image bought.

 

What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?
Nothing special.
You’re not doing anything for Valentine’s Day!

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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!

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