Well, it looks like Smivey will be spending another Valentine’s Day alone. Why? It might have something to do with how he refers to himself in the third person — not only is it obnoxious, it’s damn confusing. But mainly, it has to do with that old saying: “It’s hard for anyone to love you, until you can love yourself.” That’s why for the past two and a half months, I’ve been concentrating all my efforts on charming a certain someone: Me.
The Seduction
The hardest part about pursuing myself was trying to get my attention. I decided to start in the morning when I’d still be half asleep and my guard would be down. Occasionally, when I was brushing my teeth, I’d catch my eye in the mirror and give myself a subtle wink. At first, it kind of freaked me out. But after a few days, I started to warm up to the idea and even began to look forward to this awkward flirtation.
The Approach
After about a week of this playful eye contact, it was time to take the next step: conversation. This wouldn’t be an easy task. I’m pretty shy, so the thought of approaching someone or being approached is enough to send me screaming in the other direction. I had to choose just the right words. I didn’t want to seem too desperate. But I also didn’t want to appear too aloof. I thought about this for hours, then decided on my plan. I would make my move the next morning.
I woke up pretty refreshed the next day and was feeling rather confident. I went through my normal routine, until it was time to brush my teeth. I looked up and there I was, smirking at me in the mirror. After winking at myself, I blurted out a friendly “Hey there.” All I got back was a curious look. Why the silent treatment? Was I too forward? Was I misinterpreting the signals? i thought about fleeing, but I knew I had to stay and face the music. My Sonicare toothbrush finished its cycle and I spat my toothpaste into the sink:
“Excuse me?”
“Uh, I just said ‘Hey there.'”
“You expect me to understand what you’re saying with fucking toothpaste in your mouth?”
“Oh. Well, I just thought –”
“You just thought? No, if you thought you might have waited until you were finished brushing your teeth before you started a fucking conversation!”
“Dude. Relax.”
“Don’t tell me to relax, motherfucker!”
I should have gone with my first instinct. I got the hell out of there.
The Healing Process
Well, I don’t need to tell you, things were pretty awkward from that point on. I’d still catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror every morning. But before I could even give a wink, I’d quickly turn away.
I did everything I could to make things right. I sent myself cards. But every time I received one, I’d toss it in the garbage without opening it. I had flowers delivered to my work, but I always refused to sign for them. It seemed hopeless. That’s when i thought of couples’ counseling.
I just opened up the Yellow Pages and called the first name I saw: AAAAAAA Couples Counseling. The woman that answered the phone sounded very nice. I told her that we had been having problems and that this was our last hope. The conversation went something like this:
“How long have you been in this relationship?” she asked.
“Well, we’ve been together all my life, but we’ve always been rather distant.”
“Come on, all your life? I need a more accurate number.”
“No, really. Since the day i was born, I’ve been with him.”
“Oh, him. So you’re in a gay relationship. I see.”
“Gay? What the fuck? I am not gay.”
“But you’re involved with another man.”
“Another man? Who said anything about another man?”
“OK, calm down. What exactly are you calling us about?”
“I need help with my relationship.”
“With a woman?”
I hung up. I couldn’t take it anymore. What the hell was wrong with these people? It seemed like there was only one person who could help me learn to love myself, and that was, of course, myself. Hey, I’d gone this far, I wasn’t about to quit now. I decided I needed to try a softer approach.
I started by making dinner for myself every night. I’d even clean up afterwards. If I wanted a soda, I’d get it for myself. I even gave up control of the TV remote. And you know what? Things slowly started to get better. Occasionally, while I was brushing my teeth, I’d catch that familiar face smirking at me, and I’d be smirking back.
After a while, we even started talking. Turns out, we have a lot in common. We like the same music. We watch the same TV shows. He writes for a living. I write for a living. We even have the same taste in fashion. Which is too bad, ’cause I was hoping he could help me out with that.
A New Beginning
So now it’s Valentine’s Day, and I want it to be really special for us. I’ve got the whole evening planned out: I’ll start with a candlelight macaroni-and-cheese dinner (the fancy Stouffer’s kind), accompanied by a very nice Chardonnay (Cakebread Cellars, 2003). After sharing a chocolate lava cake for dessert, we’ll move on to the living room where Sleepless in Seattle will be cued up and waiting in the DVD player (Don’t tell him I told you this, but that movie always makes him cry). After that . . . well, we’ll just have to see what happens. I mean, I don’t want to sound too presumptuous, but if I play my cards right, well, I just might get lucky.
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