by Livia Ellis
Were we never really Valentine’s people, or am I one of those men that’s really kind of an asshole and made her feel bad for wanting some flowers and a box of chocolates on a day devoted to being romantic? (Thisis the Party Planner asking–the Matchmaker is much nicer when it comes to men being assholes.) She can only imagine how I pissed and moaned about the commercialization of a fucking commercial holiday rather than just sucking it up and being romantic.
Actually that was probably more like it.
Does Olga know this?
That I’m meeting with my former fiancée? Yes.
How did that conversation go?
Worryingly well.
What do I have with Olga?
I don’t know. I’m meeting her and Elon at five. We have a client at the Four Seasons.
Men are ass holes. (Againthe party planner) Here’s a though–why don’t I bring her some flowers and tell her I’m sorry for being a dickhead all of the Valentine’s Days we were together?
Sure. I’ll do that. Not. I never bought her flowers when it wasn’t Valentine’s Day and we were together. Why would I buy her flowers when we’re not together and they are at their priciest? Putting as fine a point on it as I can, she’s driving me to bankruptcy.
The Matchmaker tells me to meet her downstairs in her office. She’ll be with me in a moment.
I leave the bedroom. I like the Party Planner just fine, especially when she has my dick in her mouth, but there are times she drives me crazy. I get men aren’t really her thing. Fine. But we’re not all knuckle dragging Neanderthals that are incapable of thinking with anything other than our dicks.
What do I not say because it’s none of their business? Truth be told, my former fiancée never said anything when I did nothing for her for Valentine’s Day. Probably because by the time our first Valentine’s Day together rolled around she’d already resigned herself to the fact I was never going to be the sort of romantic assbag that did things like buy her flowers, pick out saucy panties for her, or get a hotel for a naughty night together. I’ll be honest; I never felt that kind of passion for her. Maybe if I’d made an effort to think of her that way, then I would have seen her that way. But I didn’t and she never objected.
I sit in the office where I was offered a job so many months earlier. The door opens just about at the moment I’m ready to get up and leave. The Matchmaker, in one of her pant suits in a brilliant red, enters and sits.
Don’t let the Party Planner bother me.
I don’t.
Of course I do. I was a terrible fiancé. Surely I must realize this.
I know. I was.
Having our faults pointed out to us is never nice. Perhaps next time I find a woman to share my life with I will have learned from the mistakes of my past.
One can only hope.
She has nothing if not hope for me. How is business?
I pull the envelope with her share of the takings from my messenger bag along with my diary. The envelope is set on the desk. She picks it up and counts the contents. It’s all there. Of course it is. I wouldn’t bite the hand that feeds me.
She’s worried about me. I’m working a lot. Am I disappearing into the job?
Maybe.
It happens. Maybe I need a vacation. It’s not too late to get to India to join the Singh family for the week of festivities leading up to Parvati’s sisters’wedding.
No. I’ve figured out Parvati. The more I tell her no, the more she wants me. Besides, I’m heading to the Reunion Islands to meet up with the Latin Pop Star in a few weeks.
The parents are pushing to have a date set for the engagement.
They can push all they want. Until they agree to a June wedding in England, I’m not budging.
They won’t agree.
They will. That or I’ll move on.
How is my friendship with Dr. Gita Premji progressing?
Gita is a great friend. For that reason amongst others I can tell her honestly that we are not a match. I would rather have Gita’s friendship than anything else.
Good things often bloom in the soil of friendship.
Sure. But there is really nothing there. At least with Parvati I feel a physical attraction. That’s not there with Gita.
Did I feel a physical attraction to my former fiancée?
Not really. Yes and no. It was comfortable. Familiar.
Something must have pushed us together. What was that?
I’d had a bad day and she was there. Being kind and strong when I needed that. Then she just kept on being there and I rather liked it. I don’t want to discuss this.
Fair enough.
Has she found anyone else for Gita?
No. In fact Dr. Premji has decided she no longer needs the services of a matchmaker.
Not surprising. She’s really not interested in getting married. Her father is satisfied. She’ll find someone in her own time.
Have I met Dr. Premji’s father?
Yes. In fact I have. Actually, oddly enough, he and my mother have become very close.
If a woman with a heart condition is going to cultivate a new friendship, choosing one of the foremost heart specialists in the world is probably a good pick.
He’s a very good man. Very kind. I quite like him.
His books changed her life.
My mother said the same thing. Maybe I should read one of them. I need some life changing.
The meeting is over. She walks me to her office door. I’m given a kiss on both cheeks. She’ll see me next Monday.
2 The Slowest Night of the Year for a Working Girl (or Boy)
There is a distinct smell when I walk into the house in Knotting Hill that is far more pleasant than the one that was present the first time I walked through the doors.
Uncle Harvey, playing the part of Wright the butler, has turned the place around. Giving credit where credit is due, Uncle Harvey is a great butler.
I find him in the kitchen. He’s in his white shirt-sleeves with black waist-coat, greytie and apron on. He’s lost weight. The work has been good for him. The house is clean, the girls love him, and there is cake.
How was the meeting?
I shrug. I reach for cake. My hand is swatted away. That is for the girls.
Why do the girls get cake? Why can’t I have cake?
Because he has a very special evening planned for the girls that involves cake.
What about me?
Don’t I have plans with Olga?
No. Yes. With a client.
How romantic I am. Every stereotype about the dashing English lord is reinforced by me on a daily basis.
Valentine’s Day is for wankers.
I do make him despair. Am I aware that my father, a man with faults he was–but none unworthy of forgiveness, always showered my mother with roses and chocolates on Valentine’s Day? How can I, his only child, be so heartlessly unromantic?
Is there a reason he’s speaking like he’s delivering a Shakespearian monologue?
I do make him despair.
No seriously–is there a reason?
Actually he and the ethereally beautiful Elizabeth (he places a hand to his heart and sighs at this moment) are preparing a small entertainment for the girls that evening. He’s getting into character.
Bleck. Really? Bleck. Honestly. Bleck. He’s preparing an entertainment? What in the name of all things worthy of making me want to gag are they going to do?
A bit of Twelfth Night.
Do the other girls know this?
Yes. In fact Mi Young will be treating us to a traditional Chinese dance, Emer will grace us with a song or two on her harp, Simone is preparing her canard aux pommes, and Talitha has agreed to not be a noisome little bitch during the screening of Love Actually. It shall all be divine.
Is it a day off and no one told me?
No. Who books a prostitute on Valentine’s Day? Seriously. If there is one day a year a man is actually going to make the effort with his significant other, it’s go
ing to be Valentine’s Day. None of the girls have a booking or a date for that matter. They’re all quite glum about it. Hence the party.
Seriously–a smart man lays the law down immediately when he enters into a relationship when it comes to Valentine’s Day.
Oh do tell. What would that law be?
Valentine’s Day is bullshit. I refuse to be told that I must spend a bloody fortune on a woman. I blame society and advertising. They get women all wound up about what they deserve on Valentine’s Day and then when they don’t get it, they bitch and moan like a bunch of little girls.
Why don’t women deserve to be honouredon Valentine’s Day?
It’s a fake holiday.
They’re all manufactured. They were all invented by man to fulfila societal need. Valentine’s Day was set aside as a moment to honour ones lover. How is this a bad thing?
If I want to buy a woman a bunch of flowers I’m going to do it because I want to and not because it’s expected of me.
The battle cry of the man who really just doesn’t get it.
It’s extortion.
It’s romantic. It’s lovely. A day devoted to being romantic.
It has nothing to do with romance.
But it can if we so choose it to be. All things are what we make of them.
I’d rather be spontaneous. To show that I care when I’m not told to.
How often did I buy my former fiancée flowers?
Well, never actually.
So I wasn’t exactly showering her with spontaneous demonstrations of my affection.
She agreed with me about this. At least the Valentine’s Day part. She thought it was bullshit too.
Really? He’s met my former fiancée many times. Am I absolutely certain she thought it was bullshit, or is it more like she didn’t want to get her hopes up because I had repeatedly disappointed her? What seems more likely? Hmmm?
She never said a word about the fact Valentine’s Day was a non-starter.
Is it possible she said nothing because she didn’t want to get her hopes up in anticipation of me being a fundamental disappointment? Let’s be honest, I wasn’t the best to her. She knew this. She just thought I would magically change one day. But I didn’t.
Fuck, I hate that he know me as well as he does sometimes.
Such is the hell of family.
I still think it’s bullshit.
It is bullshit. So are mistletoe and Easter eggs. That’s not the point. The point is taking a moment out of life to say you matter to me, you are special, I love you.
I get what he’s trying to say, but I’m still just not convinced. I’m certainly not a convert to the cult of Valentine’s Day. Maybe I’m becoming cynical. Has the job made me cynical? I’m worried the job has made me cynical.
Possibly. But then again I’ve always been rather cynical. I was a cynical child. Disturbing really. The way I used to sit and wait for people to disappoint me. Unnerving.
I blame my parents.
Convenient.
Yes. That’s why I generally blame my parents for all the bad in me. Is he coming with me for lunch?
No. Next week. He’s too busy. Give Martina and Lucy his love. He has a hamper for them that I need to take with me.
I can do that.
Upstairs in my bedroom I find Olga, Mi Young and Elizabeth. There are dresses laid out on the bed and Elizabeth is having her hair fussed with by Mi Young.
Why are they in my room?
There’s more space.
No. There really isn’t. Why must they congregate in my room?
They ignore me. I go through to the bathroom and fetch the envelope of cash I have set aside to bring with me to lunch with my mother and aunt.
The three are sitting on my bed when I pass through on the way out.
Where are the car keys?
Olga gets up. She’s coming with me. I need to take the two bags she pokes with her toe.
(Why does she do this to me in front of Mi Young and Elizabeth? Probably because she knows I won’t argue with her in front of them. My mother likes Olga just fine. Joining us for lunch would be okay. After lunch when I need to go and meet my former fiancéeI don’t need Olga around. I just need this to be a day in which I don’t have to tell Olga to go away because there is something I have to do without her. I hate those discussions.)
She wants to go to lunch with me and my mother and aunt?
Yes. Of course she wants to go. Unfortunately, she’s busy. Next week will be better. I need to drop her off at the Four Seasons.
Of course, darling. (Giant silent sigh of relief) But we need to get going.
Fine. Don’t forget the bags.
Of course, darling.
3 Mum has a Boyfriend
Mum has a boyfriend and I’m really not certain what to do about this. I’m really not. I’m so used to mum being with dad that the idea of her having a boyfriend sort of unnerves me.
This is all my fault. When I met Gita through an arrangement made with the Matchmaker we hit it off. But there was no spark. Neither of us sought a second date. No feelings were hurt. I even considered calling her just to see if she wanted to get together and go to one of those exhibitions we both agreed we enjoy. But I didn’t because the truth is I’m not in a place in my life to be making new friends.
Then I run into Gita with her father while I’m with my mother on one of our Monday outings. Because we are all polite civilized people and my mother would like to talk to Sanjay Premji about his books and how they changed her life, we sit down for tea and cakes.
From there it just cascaded. A month later and the two are with each other more than they are not.
Granted, they deny it, but I know what a relationship looks like when I see it.
I go to meet mum and Aunt Lucy for lunch at a cafénear to where her cardiologist is located. When I get there I find Gita and Sanjay Premji are going to join us. Mum brought them with her to her doctor’s appointment. Sanjay Premji, cardiologist and how to live until you’re a thousand by getting to bed by nine every night after doing yoga and drinking plenty of water fame,is mum’s friend.
Fine by me. I’m rather fond of his daughter in a very platonic and sisterly sort of way. I have a brief moment of clarity as we are having lunch that Gita would be a great wife. I like her just fine. What more could I want? I realize that when I was with my former fiancée liking her just finenever seemed like enough. Now that she’s declared herself done with me once and for all, I sort of miss the comfort of being with someone I like just fine. Now that I have an appreciation for liking the person I’m with, Gita and I could make it work.
But I know it just won’t happen. Besides, I have this sinking suspicion as my mother drinks her tomato bisque one spoonful at a time as the ever attentive Dr. Sanjay Premji sits at her elbow, that Gita and I are going to be connected to each other in a different way.
After lunch, Sanjay offers to take mum and Aunt Lucy home.
Gita takes my offer to walk her back to work.
Does she think our parents are dating?
She doesn’t think dating is the right word. But they are certainly fond of each other.
This is weird. I shouldn’t say this, but it’s the truth. I think it’s weird. Dad hasn’t even been dead a year.
Did I know that the people who are most in love with their spouse when they die tend to remarry the most rapidly?
Is she making that up?
No. She read it somewhere once. I must remember that mum is very ill. It probably comforts her a great deal to know that Sanjay is taking an emotional interest in her.
What does she think about this?
Her father is a grown man. She thinks mum is a kind woman that is very frightened, but trying to be brave. We are their adult children. We have our own lives.
Does she want to marry me?
No. But she does appreciate the offer.
If I brought her flowers, saucy panties, and chocolates would she marry me?
&nbs
p; She has hay fever, doesn’t wear panties, but would take the chocolate. And no–she doesn’t want to marry me.
She really doesn’t wear panties?
Actually she does. She was just being funny.
I don’t get Valentine’s Day. I really don’t. As a woman, does it really matter?
Do I expect her to speak on behalf of all women or just her?
All women.
A big responsibility. But she’ll give it a go. Does Valentine’s Day matter? Is that the question?
Yes.
Did I forget to buy a present for Olga?
She is not my girlfriend.
That is a conversation I need to have with Olga. Preferably when she is not around.
I grumble a little. Is she absolutely certain she doesn’t want to marry me? She could be a countess. And have me.
Tempting. But she is going to pass. As for Valentine’s Day. No–it doesn’t matter. But it is not nice to be the only girl in the office that doesn’t get flowers. It takes fifteen minutes to make Valentine’s Day special. What really is the harm?
Does she get that it’s commercial and akin to extortion?
Yes. Do I get that these things really don’t matter? Such a small thing to make someone know that they were thought of. That I was willing to play along. This is what matters.
I suppose she’s right. It really isn’t a big deal is it?
No. Not really. As for our parents. They are adults. They find something in each other. Who are we to involve ourselves in what is their business?
It’s just weird for me. I don’t know what to do about this.
Why do I need to do anything?
I don’t know. It’s just mum without dad is so strange. Dad was always so over the top on Valentine’s Day. Maybe that’s why I dislike it so much.
I need to release these thoughts and emotions. They are poison. Free myself from the demons of my past and I will find a path to the future.
I find it really annoying that she’s so short and yet so reasonable. Short people have no right to be so reasonable.