Thursday, February 12, 2009

St. Valentine & Decapitated

Something to ask with St Valentine’s stumbling around the block again. I'm sure he is a drunk.

How do you make love work for you?

Some swear by commitment, bugger sentimental love and whispers

Others firmly belief the glue that keeps them together is e-r…sex

Emotional naggers swear by communication in all its forms (including psychologists)

Sentimental love-to-be-in-love experts choose partners that will always buy them gifts

Vulnerable lambs hang onto the belief that the world will be a better place with a crappy partner

… Seldom, the Valentinos and Valerinas of the world truly understand the word ‘Love’ …

To me the tricky snare in a relationship seems to be commitment. How to bear with a partner’s whims and less elegant moods? It leaves one pretty much alone out there on the shore, in a breaking storm. Love eventually takes a hike, even after a long time and so I came to associate my relationships with a favorite childhood game:

Snakes & Ladders.

The dice is jinxed. More often than not I am kicked right down a blasted long and wobbly ladder and my partner hardly seem to notice. My partner in fact, seem to progress rather well and swiftly upwards to the Finish Line. It’s the pits at the bottom. Pretty lonely and disheartening.

A bit stupid really, this game forever wrecking havoc regardless of my honorable efforts. I also don’t like the evil snakes that eye me so hungrily. They obviously think I’m stupid. To keep trying. That I'm not good enough to play their game, a bad looser and a spoilsport when I stump off to pour a glass of wine, lick my wounds in solitude and wallow a little bit in my bottom corner.

So when I queue in shops, the domino effect hits and plasters me to a wall: Another year and here I am again, pestered by revolting nylon teddy bears and cheap milk chocolate hearts. Under my breath, I curse the wicked dice. Then I remember that I'm actually not in such a bad spot - that my love life is not a soap opera of sordid rules and break-ups. Neither am I playing the macabre game of Russian Roulette which I'll never understand. I don't have to fear decapitation or desperately edging a knife deep into my lover's chest.

Love seems to be a blood-thirsty game. And a piece of medium-rare beef with a trace of blood goes so well with a romantic dinner by candlelight...

From Snakes & Ladders on to the worn weather-cock on top of the church tower: It seems to get it all; swaggering and swaying day and night with a full round view. I am bound to bloody do something ridiculous this Valentines Day - and why not? Anyone up for a game, can meet me at the tower this coming Saturday. We’ll decide which way to go from there.

Finish Line: So what would be the greatest cheesy Valentine gift?


Brother Tobias said...

"From Snakes & Ladders on to the worn weather-cock on top of the church tower"

There is enough phallic symbolism crammed into this sentence to keep an analyst happy for a week. Steady, EV, lest you start a bush fire!

Extra Virgin said...

I'm afraid that was the intention (which very few will get).