A Beef with Cupid

I can’t believe it’s February already. You know what that means: Valentine’s Day. I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with this day. It’s supposed to represent love and all that it is, but here we are surrounded by red. A color of power, aggression, correction, failure, anger, and lust.
It’s not a happy color.

I can almost remember each Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had, from elementary up to last year. The only noteworthy one happened in 2012. Said Lover at the time went all out and it was absolutely amazing. Said Lover understood that to me it was just another day, but for them it was a big deal and who was I to deny them the joy of making me happy because it made them happy just to see me smile? Said Lover ran me a bath, cooked my favorite Olive Garden dish, ate it with me by candlelight, covered my bed with rose petals, and watched a movie with. Y’all, my little Taurus heart was full. I’m lowkey a hopeless romantic, but don’t tell nobody.

My most embarrassing Valentine’s Day was probably in high school. I wasn’t exactly a cool kid. Boys mostly talked to me when they needed help with their homework. While other girls walked around with big bears and balloons, I had were books. My father dropped me off to school on that particular day. He noticed that all the girls walked around with their pretty extravagant gifts and asked where was mine.

Seriously, Dad?

Realizing how stupid his question was, he returned after school with a rose and a card. He said, “I can’t have my baby walking around with nothing. The day was already over so I, in fact, walked around with nothing. While his gesture was sweet, it just felt like pity and the shame I had not felt all day hit me hard. Up until that point, I’d never cared that boys didn’t really talk to me that way. I got to avoid the pressures that other high school girls faced daily--at least at school, not in my neighborhood. I was always in control. He tried, but I wished he hadn’t. It made me wonder what he thought about me since other boys didn’t like me enough to buy me candy. Shouldn’t he be happy about that?

Anyways.

There was the worse Valentine’s. Said Lover bought a lavish hotel, drenched me in superficial gifts (last thing on my love language list) then got upset because I wanted to stay in and cuddle opposed to going to the club with friends. We tried to have sex, which turned awful and awkward. I’d bought Lingerie and everything only to end the night with an argument and awkward environment.

A waste.

The very next year with same Said Lover, I was in a hotel room alone while they pretended to cry and plead their love and loyalty after getting caught inboxing a stripper they were trying to hook up with the same night. I can’t make this shit up.

There was some random sweetness here and there. Once I got a big ass teddy bear from an ex, but her ass was the cheater of all cheaters, so I left it with my abby sister in 2007 and haven’t seen it since. I’ll have an extravagant day without a mishap with someone who I want to keep. One day. Because well, I’M A HOPELESS ROMANTIC. Shhh.

This is a hate blog. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

So yeah, I’m not exactly best friends with the idea of cupid. A lot of my failures at love were my own fault because I’ve always ignored that thing that represents love--red. RED FLAGS.

So, Dearest Cupid,

I’ve been through enough to know what I don't want if you must violently stab me.

No, to drunks.
No, to liars.
No, to insecurities. This one can probably be fleshed out a bit more, because if we’re being honest then we’re all insecure about something, but can you talk about it? That’s important.
No, to cheaters
No, to a lover that gets defensive when I call her out on her bullshit.
No, to a lover that’s closed-minded.
No, to a lover that doesn’t understand accountability.
No, to a lover that blames my frustrations on me, when said frustration is a direct reaction to their behavior.
No, to a lover that lies about their connections to certain friends. We're all adults here. Cut that shit out.
No, to a lover that robs me of my choice to decide in any situation.

Yes, to hopeless romantics.
Yes, to a lover with goals.
Yes, to a lover that shows not tells. I mean telling it cool too, but back that shit up.
Yes, to a lover that knows what her toxic shit is and is working diligently to fix it.
Yes, to a lover who understands my mental health isn’t always at it’s best.
Yes, to a lover who can give me my space.
Yes, to a lover who can clap for me and all that I accomplish.
Yes, to a lover that will understand that I evolve so much that my mind changes minute-to-minute.
Yes, to a lover that can sit in silence w/ me comfortably.
Yes, to a woman that understands that I need to talk through everything or I will choose to shutdown.
Yes, to a woman that will help take my weave out, wash my hair, and grease this dry ass scalp.

Yes, to a lover that gets me. Yes, to a lover that gets me. YES, to a lover that gets me.

It’s impossible for me to think of every little thing that I can yes and no to, but this is a start if I must be hit. I challenge you to know yourself, to know what you will and won't tolerate and to enforce it unapologetically. I also challenge you to be all of the things that you see, otherwise your wants are in vain.

This Valentine's Day, where a different color. Be royal (purple), be calm (blue), be optimistic (yellow). Be something outside of the box, if you are someone who celebrates the day to the fullest. If you aren’t, don’t ruin it for someone else. Take your grouchy ass somewhere else, away from the lovers of love, who choose to cease every moment.

Get paid or get laid. It’s your day!