Blue Valentine

So I failed one of my "writer's block" challenges. I said I would give something to someone on Valentine's Day and I didn't.

I'm not big on the whole V-Day thing. Not in a "Oh My God I HATE Valentine's day it's such a HALLMARK holiday it's so stupid... but I wish someone would send me flowers anyway!" kind of way... More in a "Oh, it's Valentine's Day? Hmm cool. Love you!" I think the most romantic gift I ever gave for VDay (and the most effort I put into it) was, ladies and gents, when I was 11 years old. I cut a heart shape out of red cardboard and glued heart-shaped pasta on it. Then I called the boy I was in love with on the phone to tell him "You'll have a gift tomorrow at school" and hung up straight away because I was mortified and embarrassed and red up to my ears. And the next day, I ran to him during recess and just gave it to him. And ran away after, of course. Back then, I'm not sure why I did it. I mean, why put myself through the embarrassment when I knew I wasn't getting anything back? Sometimes, things don't make sense right away. It may seem stupid, but this is a gift that he never forgot. And I am happy to say that 15 years later, on Monday, he invited me for lunch, and he said and I quote: "for that heart-shaped cardboard with pasta on it."

So what happened yesterday, across the globe, with people I know? Well, one of my friends who lives in Munich woke up to a message on her fridge from her three-months boyfriend saying "Je t'aime." It was the first time he ever said it to her. Some friends in Beirut when to a speed-dating event at my favorite bar in the city, Dictateur, and had a great time. My sister had a girls-night-in because her new boyfriend who is a doctor-thank-you-very-much, was on-call... In Montreal, my best-friend went to a Zumba Class because that's what she does on Tuesdays. And Facebook of course was a swarming platform of love, with some really cool links, like people around the world remembering their first loves and my ultimate favorite, the Valentine Cards of Ben Kling.

And what did I do? I met Blue. Blue is a Belgian Shepherd Groenendael. She's a beautiful, black dog and when you hug her, it feels like you're hugging a huge stuffed animal. Except that she is real and she can hug you right back. And the way she loves her master is so genuine and so unselfish, it makes you feel like it's the best kind of love: uncomplicated, forgiving, and unconditional, with no expectations other than its love to be returned.

And I guess the fact that I didn't give anyone anything on Valentine's Day isn't entirely true. I gave a kiss to someone very special. And I got one back.

measured love

I remember my first love.

I was eight, he was nine. We didn't need to talk, communicate, or even pretend like we knew each other to be in love. At that time, you could just pick. Point to a boy in class and decide you were in love with him. And when I was eight, I picked out the boy I would decide to love for the next couple of years. He once sent me a Pepsi Can with a messenger during recess, who told me it was a "gift from someone." I only found out it was from him because his mom told my mom that her son bought me something at school. And I once made him a Valentine's card with paper glue and heart-shaped pasta. It was that cute. But from age 8 to age 11, we never actually spoke to each other. After that it was a little more okay to say hello when passing each other. Then we started having boy/girl parties and it was okay to expect the boy to ask you to dance... and maybe it would be a normal dance where you kind of move from side to side in front of each other, and maybe it would be a slow dance... and maybe the arms would be left at arms length, and maybe we would do the unthinkable and actually slow dance with our arms wrapped around each other. That was how we measured love. 

My first love ended up being my first slow dance, my first kiss, my first boyfriend --and my first heartbreaker. It's okay, I have forgiven him since then.

But after the simple times of no communication and arms-length slow dancing, things started to get a little more complicated. Boys and girls started "going out." The boy would ask the girl, "will you go out with me?" and it was decided that they would be a couple. You could've never spoken to the boy before in your life, but he could still ask you out and if you said yes the minute after you were considered his girlfriend. Maybe not very romantic, but actually very practical: the terms were very clear from start to finish, there was no grey area. Will you go out with me? Yes. I'm breaking up with you. Okay. All black and white, no confusion. Simpler times.

And now... Well, now we're at point where you can kiss someone without knowing their first name, have sex with someone you met twenty minutes ago, kiss and have sex on a regular basis without actually being a couple, or be a couple without actually kissing or having sex.

Kind of makes the "will you go out with me?" seem a lot more romantic. 

Some couples are married, live in the same house, have children together --but sleep in different rooms, only greet each other out of politeness, and become virtual strangers. There are no more Pepsi cans being delivered, or heart-shaped pasta carefully glued. Slow dancing is replaced by heat dancing, with bodies being rubbed against each other most likely under the influence of Vodka. People spend so much time trying to pick out someone who they are attracted to physically, intellectually, emotionally... and nine out of ten times, they get it wrong. 

The chances were better when we were eight and picked at random. Because my first love turned out to be one of the greatest men I know, one of my closest friends, and quite a catch.