Bloody St Valentine's Day

Yes, it's 14th February, the weather here in London has warmed up, the sun is out and for the past couple of weeks, shops have been full of pink and red hearts made from plastic or satiny stuff; there have been all sorts of "gift ideas," usually featuring hearts - though not like the one in the illustration above...

Bloody bad timing St Val. old chap - as far as this ranting blogger is concerned at least.

I have just received the worst broken heart of my life. She will neither speak nor communicate, with me, so (and how sad is this?) I have to resort to a blog rant. Apologies dear friends for boring you with this but I am not myself having been unable to sleep properly since 21st January.

The woman concerned I shall call T. She and I have known each other since late spring 1981; at that time we went out for a few months - she told me that she loved me and indeed went so far as to say "I want your baby" and then, on returning from a short holiday with a girlfriend, she cut herself off from me, choosing immediately. one of my closest friends. She was 19; I was the nearest to suicide that I have ever been.

After a year and a half, she and the friend started a business: I worked for them for a year or so and T and I became very good friends; we remained in contact on and off over the years always on good terms.

Finally last summer (20th June) she contacted me again (she is in England and I was in France) and a long and involved email and "chat" correspondence followed, culminating on 12th August with her declaring her love for me. I was delighted, since first I was beginning to feel that way myself, and second, it was obvious that we had, or so it seemed everything in common. She came over to France for a few days at the end of August and it was wonderful - we talked everything through - she apologised for her behaviour in 1981 offering the excuse that "I was only 19 then, I am not 19 now." Fair enough and so I believed her. I took the opportunity to apologise for such misdemeanours as I could recall. Shortly afterwards circumstances required that I be in England and naturally enough I stayed with her - at her invitation of course. My mother had been hospitalised and there was much concern for her. T was incredibly supportive at what of course was a difficult and trying time; she understood and her attitude and behaviour made this very clear. She proclaimed "infinite" love for me, said that the previous thirty years had been a terrible waste and she agreed to marry me; one day she wrote, "I am incurably in love with you." And all the time there was the wonderful warmth of this frequently-declared love, which I was so happy to reciprocate. I should add that she is very beautiful, highly intelligent, widely read &c.

And so my love for her, which had perhaps always been there and just dormant through the years, deepened as time passed.

She always made a big point that all feelings must be expressed and that any problems must be addressed face-to-face and discussed. She said she thought that perhaps it was a little soon for us to be living together - she had been on her own for 15 years - and after a proper discussion it was agreed that I would live separately for a few months - she made it very clear that she did not want our relationship to be damaged - and tried to show that this was not a case of "cold feet" and that it was nothing to do with anything that I had said or done - or not said or not done. All this was agreed and all was lovely ("I love you, I love you so much" &c., &c.). I left to visit my mother who is still very frail and on the morning we parted, in her arms, she breathed "I love you". This was Thursday, 19th January.

On the Friday we exchanged our usual jolly text messages. On the Saturday morning she telephoned me, but there was something not quite right in her manner; I arranged accomodation for myself that day as I had undertaken to do. She went incommunicado after that except for a couple of terse texts (ominously missing the "X" at the end) and finally called me on the Monday afternoon again obviously still in similar form to Saturday but we agreed that I would return on the following Thursday.

On the Thursday morning I received the following text message :

"Am horrified by your selfish attitude and behaviour. I really don't want to see you. You'll need to collect your stuff, so please suggest a time when you can do this."

She refused to answer the telephone, refused to see me. All I got were some unpleasant text messages and emails - e.g. "Leave me alone". She did say in one of them that she had been feeling "suffocated" She did not ever refer to this in our discussions - so much for frankness and honesty. She says that I do not love her, but "love an idea of her that I have created." This is nonsense; if we had known each other for a few months only, perhaps there could be such a case made. Maybe it was just an attempt to shift the responsibility for fickleness?

She is now enraged with me - I have been trying to communicate with her contrary to her wishes - and now she says I am harrassing her and that the love I have for her is a "crazy obsession"! So much for "I am not 19 any more". And I wonder what "infinite" means to her - as in "infinite love"? Amongst her many talents she is a mathematician; one would I think be entitled to presume that a mathematician might have a better understanding of the concept of infinity than do most of us...

I accept that I am naive - despite my advanced years. I operate on a very simple principle which is: If you say you love somebody, then you show some consideration - and I am happy to apologise here and now for any misdemeanours over the past months and in particular, for a few of my very recent choleric outbursts - usually made under the effects of excess alcohol (I am not an habitual boozer by the way). This is after all the second time she has done this to me; one could be forgiven for expecting greater consideration this time.

A friend of mine used to say "you learn nothing from the second kick of the mule" He was wrong - the second kick is much worse.

And of course I still love her - absolutely - and would forgive her immediately - and I dream of her forgiving me..

Here then is my St Valentine's Day message to all:

Don't say "I love you" if you don't mean it, and don't say "I'll love you forever" if you are not prepared to deliver. If you are not sure, DON'T SAY IT - think of the other's feelings and the likely consequences.

To this writer, "I love you" is an absolute - the greatest thing one human can say to another.

Do not imagine that it is fair or satisfactory to say afterwards "I made a mistake" or "An error of judgement." If you follow the advice in the first paragraph, you will not find yourself in the unfortunate position of having to attempt to exonerate yourself. THINK.

And St Valentine: just get out of my face will you?

Until the next time - if there is one.