Normally I’m the one who touts the belief that every moment shall not be wasted and the other night I totally blew it! I was having magnificent wine with friends at my favortie wine bar when the topic of Valentine’s Day came up. These friends, both male, are tragically romantic, just wanted an Isolde to their Tristan. In mid romantic flux (when I was closest to vometing) I stated…Valentine’s Day is a hoax; I don’t believe in it or romance anymore.

You’d have thought I’d deflated their god. Retracking my statement wasn’t possible with these two, whom I obviously irked a bit. And what’s more, at the time I didn’t want to retract my statement. For years I’d been doted upon on Valentine’s Day and yet I cannot for the life of me recall a single event. I’m not sure if it’s the political side of me taking over, demanding that love not be enforced by the monetary institutions of our nations, or it could have been….

That I missed romance enough that I didn’t want to think about it.

My mother died a few years ago—I think about her periodically, but I don’t expect her to come back, I don’t wane for her existence, I accept that she’s gone and move on. I think the same has happened for me and romance.

I’ve been on enough dates…enough BAD HORRIBLE EXHAUSTINGLY HUMOROUS dates that I’ve started to believe that romance and romantic love do not exist…at least, for me. Is this living passionately??? Aren’t my friends, stupid as they seem to me right now, living passionately whilst I am “fearlessly” hiding behind non-emotion??? I’m perterbed with myself—I have decided that one of my goals should be, most certainly, to find my Tristan, to find my romantic desire again. I think the fear of rejection is the greatest dragon when searching for my knight in shining armor, so this will take a while.