Valentine Day's Massacre

I first got married on Valentine’s Day. That massacred the
commercial celebration for me forever! I’m not bitter, but perhaps
I should explain…

 

It’s February again, in the New Millennium. I’m sitting here, pursuing my writing career - a career I would not have if I were still married. I’ve got the selfishness to do something - just for me. It’s my time now.

My children are grown and beautiful human beings – no small testament to my tenacity to keep going right through the divorce and the poverty of being a one-income family, doing a job I hated for low pay.

The demoralization of society’s label ‘single mother’ is not for the faint-hearted!

I could have taken the easy way out. I could have grabbed some poor bloke with a steady income to help, but that’s not my way. My mistakes were my responsibility, no one else’s.

On lonely days I’d hide my tears from other people and their erroneous perception that I was a ‘superwoman’ working, feeding, educating and caring for my children while their father settled down with the woman I had caught him with.

Now happily married to her, he owns three properties, travels the world, buys what he wants, when he wants - good on him!

Every Valentine’s Day I’m grateful to my ex-husband. I don’t think about our marriage - what would be our 26th anniversary… he’s been married to her longer than he was with me - and by all accounts, he’s happy! I can only wish them the best.

I have made loads of mistakes along the way, but he made me make the decision to leave - the decision to change my life and I thank him.

He made me take control again! Although the struggle was unbearable at times and still is - I make my own decisions. I control the direction of my life now but the dreaded Valentine-hype has got me thinking.

I’ve been on my own for fifteen years… Am I happy? Does it suit me to be alone?

I’ve been so busy working, trying to pay the bills on time, and bringing up the children, educating them and now educating myself - I haven’t had time to think past my new career.

I studiously avoid romance now.

Years ago I was a member of a Romance Writer’s group, and was recently asked to tutor on the subject. Hmmmmm.

The other day my niece took a copy of some old poems to school. I had written them in my peak romance years - long ago. Long before marriage and serious commitment. Apparently her teenage school friends loved my literary angst.

My children are of an age where they are not so embarrassed about their baby photos anymore. Now they want to look at them, copy them, make collages for friends.

And it’s forced me to look at them too! To look - really look - at the family happiness that was evident, the love that was in our house when we were all together and content. 

Perhaps the Universe is trying to tell me, that it’s time I re-examined the subject?

Soon it’ll be Valentine’s Day again. I know I won’t get a card – I don’t expect one. But I can’t help the thought entering my head.

I do nothing to encourage romance in my life. I dress to please myself. I don’t play the games -although I must confess to being a matchmaker... I’ve helped quite a few friends find partners and all of them are still together.

So I know the rules. I admit it! I am a romantic! I do believe there is someone out there - for everyone - but not me! I don’t have time and I don’t want the distraction of romantic love. I am surrounded by love. I have a close family and fantastic
friends.

I don’t need romance. Do I?

Love? Does romance have to mean love? Then by extension for me, a life-commitment and the responsibility for someone else’s feelings? Well, I’ve had enough of responsibility! I’ve paid my dues. Now I just want to be responsible for myself.

Love’s too hard!

Can you have romance in your life, without love? 

 

I’m not the type to be half-committed. I’m all or nothing. And besides, it wouldn’t be fair to only give half of myself. I’m a passionate person who needs to relate completely. I can’t just use a person for company, for dinner dates, dancing - things I love to do…

It’s hard being single!

Out in public, women you don’t know and who don’t know you, are suspicious. They consider you’re competing or about to steal their partners! You must want to be like them: anxious to be a full-paid-up member of Coupledom. There’s no other way to live – to be completely happy, is there?

Just interacting with other couples who aren’t family, is a nightmare.

What is the obsession these days with bedroom antics? If you admit to celibacy, others ridicule because there must ‘be a reason’… “Was she subjected to child abuse? Was she raped? A bad marriage?”

No, just a bad end to a marriage!

“Why doesn’t she need/like sex?” It’s not a matter of liking or disliking sex. It’s simply a matter of choice. Like a lot of other people, I choose not to jump into bed with just anyone. Anyway - I haven’t found anyone I like enough to get that intimate with!

And it’s got nothing to do with how I look or how old I am. I believe love is possible at any age. But it’s just not that important!

Your sexuality is questioned if you choose to be out of the hunt. Who gives people the right to ask these questions? And what the hell has it got to do with them anyway?

I’ve got other things I am passionate about, my children, my writing, my family and friends but most importantly, my desire to make a decent living for myself, doing something I enjoy. That’s all I have the energy for, these days.

Am I ready to try again? I still don’t know. I do know that when Valentine’s Day comes, I won’t be able to help myself - I’ll look in the letterbox.

Then I’ll be disappointed that some knight in shining armour hasn’t scaled my protective walls and declared his love. But just for a second…

Then I’ll get back to my real world.

I was wrong.

 

           Eros Strikes Again!

Valentine’s Day. You

Pierced me with the past.

Forced me to recall

Feelings suppressed…

and reminded me

of my ability to love…

 

I now believe love can happen at any age. I admit I was a doubter for a long, long time and hated, even dreaded Valentine’s Day.

I thought I had used up all my chances when I was young and that being older meant love and romance shouldn’t be on my wish list… and it wasn’t!

Well, I am here to prove to you all that it still should be. I am 54 and have just found romance again. I’m not slim, rich or famous but I am in love!

I recently married the man I was in love with and ran away from 30 years ago who found my name by accident (on the net), contacted me, systematically smashed down my not-inconsiderable barriers, deleted all my negatives, wooed me with words, romance and flowers and finally convinced me to try love again. 

In 1974 I was 23 and living in Zambia, I fell madly in love with an Irish rock-n-roller who wasn't quite ready for me. Broken-hearted and determined to get as far away as possible, I caught a plane to Western Australia and wallowed in poetry.

I met and just weeks later married a bronzed Aussie on 14th February 1975, saw him through Uni, produced two beautiful children and divorced in the 80's. From then on I hated Valentine’s Day.

But I worked hard at any job I could get, loved my kids and kept busy and distracted from my divorcee label with part-time courses and community work. I thoroughly enjoyed being in charge of me and secretly kept writing - even wrote a novel but never had the courage to let anyone see it.

Until 1998, I always treated writing as a side dish and love was never on the menu. I couldn’t even write about romance except to say that I dreaded all the hype of Valentine’s Day. I didn’t want or expect romance in my life.

After seeing both my children through University, they left home happily stepping in their own living-dreams directions. The empty nest loomed large. There was just me – only me to concentrate on.

So I threw away the safe cocoon of full-time Bank employment.

At the age of 48 I took casual jobs and began my dream - a full-time degree in creative writing at University. Surrounded by clever young things used to study, it was very hard. Not the writing – never the writing; but paying bills - you learn never to waste precious sheets of paper again.

I didn’t give up – I kept going because my kids were so proud of me. Romance still wasn’t necessary. I was way too busy with myself to spend any time on or with anyone else. I didn’t recognise that I was busy romancing myself.

 

ReUnion

stepping softly

you trod the path

to my front door

 

never rang the bell

played favourite songs

over and over until

 

senses on overload

surrounded by romance

you kissed me quick

 

heart pumped electric

singing over barriers

erected years ago

 

against pain and hurt

welcomed as veins

formed highways

 

joined the chorus

zinging with heat

barely contained

 

thrumming melody

words all ready

rhymed with roses

 

thorns ignored

fresh and bloody

us young again

 

After graduation I was taking my first tentative steps into a new writing career; it was January 2002. My Irish rock-n-roller recognised my name on the net - a million-to-one chance! Both now over 50, he lived in Ireland and I was in Australia, neither of us looking for each other or Love.

To prove the point, I sent him a scathing magazine article I had written filled with the hate of romantic hype. Undeterred on Valentine’s Day he asked if I was accepting Valentines from old boyfriends and my still-youthful heart zinged, surprisingly pierced well and truly by Cupid’s arrow. I was a terrified cliché!

Three screamingly silent days later I admitted “I have always believed that if I ever found my ideal love - a complete acceptance of all that I am; absolute loyalty, unconditional support, encouragement and equality, from someone who would accept and expect nothing less than the same from me… then also mix in intellect, curiosity, humour and chemistry… I WOULD GRAB LOVE – with both hands and never let go!

But I would have to be sure that it was real and not another illusion.

An illusion created by my own idealistic and romantic pedestal-placing heart, projected onto a smooth talker; a charming, talented, kind and careful person who has lovely manners, is courteous and doesn’t want to hurt me… I’ve done that before and it didn’t work out!

Phone lines and emails ran hot for six months between Ireland and Australia, while we explored the possibility of romance and dealt with doubts from both sides.

“I’m not your 23 year old with a ‘girl next door’ look, anymore… I’m over fifty and although I present well socially, once the wrapping is removed… It’s not that I don’t want to consider the possibility and I admit; since the surprising thought hit me, I have spent a lot of time completely distracted by that. But I don’t think I’m
ready – I’m not a tease (I’m talking about actions, not flirty words) and can’t promise what I can’t deliver… this is all new…”

He climbed aboard his silver charger, brandished words with conviction, clothed in romance and arrived in Perth. Thirty years melted away when he touched me. We married last year, surrounded by family and yachts. I am in love again AND living my dream to write full-time!

Recently I was asked to write a poem for a wedding. Three years ago I couldn’t have written any poem about romantic love. Thankfully, my Irish rock-n-roller proved me very wrong.

Another Valentine’s Day loomed and was important for a different reason.
As I travelled from Australia to Ireland with the re-discovered love of my life, we flew over Iraq and Iran.

 

No Love for Valentine

 

Valentine’s Day 2003 Hans Blix’

will deliver his report to condemn or free 
a rebel country held to high ransom,

ruthlessly sanctioned, surveill-ed and surrounded.

 

It’s supposed to be the day we say who we love
(or secretly admire) want and desire.

A day for smiles - not hate and guided missile 

range – 93 miles! Colin Powell talks about

 

what they didn’t do – how they didn’t comply…

(He seems uncomfortable with his soldier lot.)

News TV says ‘Action could be imminent,

the second Weapons Inspectors leave Iraq.’

 

Think about that! Thousands who wait, prepare

for, even expect death. North Koreans re-

assemble their power plant and stand ready

to defend against George Bush who says his Armed

 

Forces ‘are second to none’ and can prove it!

Donald Rumsfeld has confidence that ‘we‘can

do whatever needs to be done…’ But Tariq

Aziz – Iraqi Diplomat with a cool

 

head declares ‘we have not violated 1441’.
France vetoed, now Russia and China
won’t agree to protect neighbouring Turkey
if there’s a war… They’ve also applied

 

recently for oil licences along with all
the rest of the world… ‘Keep Britain Safe. Be

alert but not alarmed.’ No need for tape or

plastic yet, though across the sea, every ‘good

 

ol’ boy’ stocked up on water, food and batteries…

Retail giants rub their hands as Mac’ers sets up
next to Pizza Hut, in the sand. A news-paper
carries a notice – ‘US Used Car

 

Salesman required in the desert.’ Seems that the

liberators aim to stay a while - smile and saunter
armed to the teeth. Shannon protestors gathered
to demonstrate against the US

 

Air Force making our space a target. Naked solidarity
for peace - against a war that
hasn’t happened yet… give it time! 6’ 6”
soldiers wander empty airport halls

 

at Heathrow and Gatwick. Stanstead has joined the
guarded group and Windsor wonders what’s going
on… People in the street ask what to do
if ‘something happens’. I don’t know – do you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frances Macaulay Forde © 2006