Valentine’s Day: Love, Tears and Ponderings

It’s Valentine’s Day and across this ball of earth there are millions of couples deep in embrace, lips locked in ecstatic union, joined in other ways, too, perhaps!

And I? Well, I have my own two hands to embrace myself and my upper lip to lock with the lower one and Mrs Palmer and her five daughters to join in a closer union should I feel the need. It wasn’t like this always and won’t be like this always either for fortune rolls like this ball upon which we make merry and sometimes shed tears.

Do I feel alone? Perhaps! But, that’s not important for surely, there are millions like me, too! I, do, however, recall one evening at a pub… When I sat alone, sipping gingerly at my frothy, feeling a touch a/lone/ly. I confess, I love beer, especially the non-glycerine variety but the cold of the beer gets to my throat and most of it to my belly, thankfully leaving at least a teeny-weeny bit for my head. On the large video screen, there were Formula 1 cars zooming in and out of view. Music was a touch sentimental but appropriate for my then-state of mind. In walks a squat-built guy with a comely in tow. I look at them, their apparent joie de vivre and feel sorry for myself. I am past the golden mean in years and my career is nowhere. I can’t blame anyone, perhaps not even myself, because I never was a careerist (being happy writing poems that no one wanted to read and prose that no one wanted to publish) and to desire any of it now meant being a fool, which was how I felt.

This fella looks like he’s going places, doing well at work and so on. He sits at a table within touching distance from mine, his companion opposite him and waves about saying ‘hi’ and ‘hello’ to some of the early birds at the pub. Moments later a chappy joins the duo, sits and affectionately pats the comely’s head and then moves across the table to sit by our man. Our man slings his hand across the other’s shoulder and the bonhomie is instantly contagious. I think of my time as a younger chap and how my friends and I would meet. Our man and his pal sit, backs to me, comely facing me.

…They are deep in embrace – man and man – comely watches, her face still, somewhat stern. Sudenly, I sense tears, a napkin is drawn and moved to our man’s face…The other (man) holds for a bit and another napkin finds a way to his face…

More embracing, more crying….it’s open now…comely is silent, her eyes at a point between the two men. I wonder if she’s given the ultimatum and is ready to walk…and, this is his last chance to redeem himself in her eyes…

Another napkin is drawn, this time by comely. It lands on the table and she doodles. My eys cannot gore through the two bodies that stick and then unstick, to the paper that holds the key to comely’s mind. I resist the temptation to rise and snoop.

My mind is on them – two men and the woman with them…my pain has dissolved in their tears.

I wonder who the lovers are. Our man is! And? The woman or the man?

Suddenly I know the answer to the riddle! Our man needs comely. He loves the other.

I wonder if man can really love woman? Is it love or is it need disguised as love?

I think of the women I have loved…and love…