Happy fucking Valentine's Day

It was Valentine's Day.

I mean.

I never put much stock into it.

I made plans with friends, had to work, didn't think much of it.

Until The Latest Bartender decided to ruin my plans, to ask me to do something and make me drop everything because with him, it feels different.

We met for drinks once I got off of work, and he monopolized the conversation. I thought maybe he was nervous, maybe he was awkward. We kept talking, things went smoother. We kept talking, he kissed my shoulder for no reason. We kept talking, we kissed for no reason. We kept talking.

We went back to his house.

We went back to his house and we were kissing and kissing and I said something about how maybe we should wait, because truthfully, truthfully, the reason I was back in Smalltown had to do with a man, and sex meant love to me of late, and I just wasn't sure I could go through with it.

And he said, as if to ease the tension (you have got to be kidding me), Don't worry, I lost my virginity.

 And I sat straight up.

In a week?! I cried.

He was flummoxed. Said that last I saw him, I didn't want him to give it up to me, that I declared I would be forever fucking up his life. So he took matters into his own hands.

My version, dear readers? I didn't want to fuck up his life, true. But I expressed interest in him and continued to initiate contact with him, which he slowly stopped responding to. So. So. While I was interested, while I was trying, he was stripping down with some other girl, some other girl who I only have to presume came on to him while working (um, much like I?), some other girl he gave a guarded lie to.

I left. I told him there was nothing for me to do but leave. That he had to be kidding me. That I could barely hide my tears, I didn't tell him this but I could barely hide my tears. And not because of his virginity. But because he so callously gave it away when I told him I liked him, when I made efforts to get to know him.

I told him I had to leave while in a state of undress, he followed me downstairs, watched me dress, sat down, defeated, as I said it's all fine, he didn't owe me a thing, but the truth was, I liked him. I liked him. I merely said I didn't want to be the catalyst in him giving up his belief system, I didn't tell him to go fuck some other random woman.

I told him I liked him, and it upset me that he had sex with someone else.

He said he didn't see himself in a serious relationship.

I said I didn't either. Except. With him, it felt different. So, for me, it only made sense to leave.

Once I stop crying I'll be happy I did so.

Happy fucking Valentine's Day.