A Bisexual Woman’s Lament: I Don’t Need Valentine’s Day

An audio lamentation

Another day of love for lovers is here,
and I am unbothered by the frenzy and
unfulfilled purposed people struggling
to find the best gifts for others they
half love Monday through Thursday, and
find themselves wanting to be rid of by
Friday.

I smile. I smirk. I know where it all ends, 
and sadly, where it will begin again, and
I say, “I don’t need Valentine’s Day to
express my love for another — to let them
know I truly care. If I love you, you know.
I tell you. I show you.”
And I get stares that seem to skitter
about from the eyes and roll off to
skim through my thoughts.

I said what I said.
And I meant it.

My mother is the only person who
can call me and say, “Happy Valentine’s Day,”
and I don’t flinch or cringe — she has done
it for decades now. Ain’t no stopping her.
The pressure that comes with this day
is abhorrent. 
I have seen people take their last 
$50.00 to semi-splurge on 
things their loved one didn’t need.

And here we are, living during a time
when four gallons of gas will probably
cause you to get evicted. 
Do what you want with your money, I know
what I will be doing with mine.

This day reappears yearly, and it’s the same
charade setting itself up on 
bended knees to knock every participant
down and out before they can utter
half-hearted “I love yous.”

Commercialism at its finest.

And you’ll succumb. You’ll buy the roses.
You’ll book the restaurant reservation.
You’ll get the diamonds and pearls and 
toe the line of bankruptcy to 
fulfill an empty heart that only really
needs you — that only really needs . . . love.

I’ll try not to put my foot too far in my mouth,
because I am loving a woman who will 
one day have me running out to find
the best thing suited for the whole of her — of who
she is — Valentine’s Day, included among all
others.

If it’ll draw that dimpled smile from her 
face for eleven seconds, I’d succumb, too.
But for now, I don’t need Valentine’s Day.
It can’t have what I have and won’t give
me what I want — what I need.

I’ll sit back and watch and wonder 
how much longer we’ll dive into
the moneymaking day of love that still
manages to leave people depressed
when the day is done.

We are knee-deep in its throes . . .
bound to sink in its making faster
than we ever could in quicksand.

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Originally published at Prism & Pen via Medium.