Yet Another Reason to Hate Valentine's Day (A Flash Back)

I never did tell you her name, did I? And um, I guess I should thank you for never asking. Not that I wouldn't have minded. Its just that she doesn't really like having her business being put all out there. Never has. And I guess that as long as she remained nameless, anonymous, she could convince herself that It wasn't really her business that I was putting all out there. It was mine. My dirty laundry. She was just a shade of lipstick on the collar of my favorite shirt. She could be anyone. And I reckon thats just the way she liked it.
Her name is Samantha. Sam for short. I called her Sammy once but she thought that a tad too much. And so I settled for Sam. Unless of course she's having one of her blond moments, in which case I call her “Samantha who”.
Now, to be quite honest, Ive never been one for valentine's day. Never liked it, probably never will. Least of all because I hate the color red. And so when I say that a romantic valentine's day in Mbale with Samantha was the last thing on my mind, I hope that you will be apt to believe me. I asked her up because...well, I really don't know why I asked her up. Ive never really thought about it. I do know though that I never really expected her to actually agree to come. I had asked her half jokingly and so when she did say that she would come, I took it as some sort of sign I probably shouldn't have. But in my defense, wouldn't you? I mean, you don't go out of your way to go on a trip to somewhere you've never been to be with someone unless you're trying to say something...or, as I later found out, unless you're Samantha.
She arrived on the afternoon of Friday the 13th (please, no jokes) and the first thing that struck me was how good she looked. Up to know I don't know whether it was because I hadn't seen her in some time or if she really was having one of her “super cute days”.
It was nice to see her. But although we tried our best to make nice, there was no denying that my unanswered question, or rather inadequately answered question was still looming over us.
But even though, I committed myself to not bringing it up that day. In my opinion, it was too soon. I wanted us to at least try to enjoy ourselves before I rained down on our parade.





Saturday




The weather was wonderful. Not too hot, just enough sun, the hint of a breeze and the promise of a star lit night. Some might even say that it was perfect. Not me though. I don't believe in perfect. Not anymore. I'm too old to believe in fairy tales.
But that being said, it was a pretty good day. I enjoyed myself. Even if most of the time I was on edge waiting for the perfect opportunity to drop that mother load of a bomb in her lap. A opportunity that never came. I was foolish to even think that it ever would. Theres no such thing as perfect, remember? Just a series of small compromises, even more and even smaller denials and one huge pair of “mother of God, what are you wearing?” rose tinted glasses.
We hung out, caught up, ate ice cream, walked around, looked for pork, couldn't find any so settled  for goats meat and rolexes instead, a brew or two or three, got her a hotel room and wound up on this king sized bed that was just begging to be rolled around in.
with the evening having pretty much only one direction to go, I decided, much to the chagrin of the Lloyd writing this, that “you know what? That's not what I want. Not with this thing eating me up inside, tying my stomach into knots, making my head swim.” And so I decided to open my big fat mouth.
I had one arm around her. Had her in a place I liked to think she thought of as home. I could have kissed her if I wanted to. Turned the night into magic. A dark magic where all else would have been forgotten. At least until the first gray streaks of morning and sanity returned. But instead of doing this simple thing, instead of losing myself in the curve of her neck and the plum of her lips, I licked my own, took curious note of how my chest rose and fell and finally came out with it- Hiroshima!
She didn't say anything for a beat. Maybe two. Didn't do anything either. Then feeling her slowly exhale, I watched as she rolled out of the curve of my arm and onto the expanse of the bed. If she had thought of it as home before, that was now nothing more than a distant dream.
Seemed to take a moment to choose her words carefully. But even though, there was still a weary note in her voice when she said,
“my answer hasn't changed Lloyd. We still cant be together. For the same reasons I gave you before.”
I let that sink in. I let it marinate. And once it had, once the full absurdity of the situation had hit me, I got angry.
“Then why did you even come?” I asked her as calmly as possible. But even though, there was still a slight tremor in my voice.
“Ive never been to Mbale before, I thought it would be an adventure.”
“You thought that it would be an adventure.” I repeated after her.
“You thought that it would be an adventure.” I said again. This time more  to myself.
I laughed. But her and I both knew that there was no humor behind it.
“Let me ask you,” I continued,
“Knowing how I feel about you, it never once crossed your mind that boarding a bus, which you hate in case you've conveniently forgotten, to go somewhere you've never been, on valentine's day weekend, yes I know Ive said that I hate it and I do and God knows you're about to give me a reason to hate it even more, to visit me might appear to some, hell to anyone, to have some sort of special significance?”
Now although I'm not quite sure I said exactly that, I am pretty sure that I did say something to that affect. As for what she replied to that? I have not a clue. Of course, I'm quite allowed to speculate but that, for some reason, wouldn't feel quite right.
One of the disadvantages of letting things marinate for so long; things run quite amok, deciding to play hide and go seek with your memory. I'm not up to playing, however, and so i'm going to do my best to provide a pretty faithful summarization.
Advantage of king sized bed meant for rolling around in #4;
Perfect for putting as much space as you can between you and someone you're not especially fond of at the moment without falling off the friggin' bed, saving them from potential bodily harm.
She slept on one side of the bed and I slept on the other. She got the wall. I loved the wall. I was angry enough to try and take it away from her but some sensible part of me that had miraculously stayed put against all the odds managed to convince the rest of me that it wasn't worth the hassle.
And so it was until the first gray streaks of morning and sanity returned.