VALENTINE'S B WORD

Who is he?

That's the simple question my Valentine heart wants to ask my pseudo-boyfriend these days. No, I'm not talking about some kind of Shirley McLaine new age self-introspective question in the third person--- I'm asking if he's seeing someone else, seriously, besides me? I suppose I have no right to ask this question since I was the one who asked to take it slow, to keep it non-committal, to keep it "open." And yet I now find myself after a year and a half of dating this man suddenly remorseful that he may be preparing to move on without me.

Granted, after ending a 5-year relationship a few years ago I wasn't eager to jump into another one, but Cary had been a friend for awhile and who better to have sex with? I liked him, I knew him, and he was certainly open to keeping it casual.

But I could tell Cary's feelings for me changed this past Fall with our one year anniversary and he stated in no uncertain terms that he was ready to make a commitment. The "B" word brings up a lot of issues for me (no, not bitch, butch, or bi--- something much more terrifying to me: boyfriend), most having to do with my past failures. I've tried my hand at marriage several times, each with disappointing results, but I still long for the white picket fence, the two car garage, one dog/two cats, and the adopted Chinese baby. Perhaps my Ken doll fantasy is with Cary--- the one man who I've actually taken the time to get to know. And yet, the signs are pointing to me more and more everyday that the patience I've needed and the patience he's extended are about to change.

And now the impending horror of Valentine's Day is upon us. No expectations there, huh? Whoever thought up this sick little holiday ought to be sent to a good divorce lawyer's office and made to type up property settlements. Oh sure, I've had my share of wonderful Valentines and some really lousy ones. And while last year Cary and I celebrated with a carefree ease and festive non-chalance, this year weighs heavier on my heart because of the amount of time we've now shared. The Hopi Indians have no word for time, but chances are they do have a Valentine Poker night at their local casino.

To make things worse, Valentine's Day this year falls on a Saturday so you can bet people are going to be not only exchanging cards, overpriced flowers, and fire retardant stuffed animals--- but they'll also have to spend the night together. It's like some kind of twisted scam between the florists, Hallmark, and Hilton. Bottom line, a lot of shit comes out on this night. Resentment, anger, and feelings that perhaps the love they're getting isn't quite what they had anticipated or that this one night of flowers doesn't make up for feeling ignored all year. Which brings me to Cary, who I have a feeling has found what he's really looking for in, dare I say it, another man.

We haven't talked about Valentine's Day, but the other night I mentioned I knew what gift I was getting him. He suddenly seemed a tad uncomfortable, perhaps a realization that he may be having two offers for this lovely day. Hey, he could spend the day with me and the night with ____________, or vice-versa. Since this guy is new, I would probably get the prized spot of the evening but that doesn't mean anything because a secret romantic daytime pleasure romp could bring just as much satisfaction.

The irony in all my feeble worries is that we have an understanding where all I would have to do is ask him if indeed he is seeing someone else. But his answer may prove too much for my romantic heart to bear, or worse, perhaps a darker fear of mine, that the realization of the "B" word is now upon me.