The Best Valentine's Day Ever

I spent my best Valentine’s Day ever at the bottom of a well. On February 13th I was reaching for a bucket (because our winch had a bad catch) and I stumbled and fell to the freezing waters below.

The next day, while husbands and boyfriends were scurrying around for chocolates and cards and dinner reservations, I was standing in waist-deep water. I suppose everyone I knew was out loving each other, because no one thought to come look for me.

You see, I would have been just as alone out in the open air as I was at the bottom of that well. The difference was I didn’t have to look at folks strolling hand in hand, or eating little candy hearts, or see an old men at Kroger’s buying flowers at eight o’clock two hours after the flower shops closed. I also didn’t have to fight traffic or elbow through a crowded restaurant and listen to the sounds of people laughing and kissing.

It’s bad enough to be unloved, but having the world rub it in is unbearable. I’d rather be cold and wet and underground than breath free air as a lonely man.