AN ACTION VERB
Sunday, February 14, 2021 - daily column #6668
Happy Red Day.
A Red Hallmark day; red-faced-day for absentminded ones.
Red roses with no smell, red hearts don’t pump. Red streamers decorate a day to celebrate love.
What is that, exactly, this emotion we romanticize?
This love, that love, or many loves; the distinction is, love is not a thing, no state of mind we succumb to or fall into, but rather, love is a verb. An action verb.
Someone wrote once, “Marriages come and go, but divorce is forever,” a cynical spin on coupling. I liked being yoked – a fantastic way to be, live, love, work, and play when it works. Not so much when it doesn’t.
Have I given enough, too much, not enough – and when did I fail to live up to society’s expectations of love and devotion to anyone?
I’ve messed up every relationship I’ve ever had.
To be fair, a few times, I had help …
This confluence of Valentine’s Day and Family Day Weekend is a crushing intersection for emotions, obligations, and guilt – for me.
Not such a great place to be when sad, mad, or un-glad. Cold-water reality splash.
Seriously, February 14th weekend, the mini-season glum depression was invented for; if we are ‘in a relationship’ – cause for pause – is it good enough? Is it working? Is it fair, balanced and reciprocal?
Hardly a romantic-mood building exercise for anyone, coupled or not.
I’m in the alone-folk demographic – great when the weather is nice and warm feelings of romance are in the air. Not so much when it’s cold outside. Or alone inside. As Saskatchewan farmers sorrowfully lament after hailstorms, “Well, there’s always next year.”