Author: Helen Boyd

When I was single, which seems a long time ago now, I hated Valentine’s Day. One glorious year, I had forgotten about it entirely. I went to work that day like it was any other day and I didn’t think about who I wasn’t dating or who I was dating who would no doubt do something horrible to ruin it. I remember having a pleasant day at work and starting the walk up Christopher Street to the subway in the cold and seeing a line of people standing outside. And I honestly thought, for one quick minute, what is so important that those fools are freezing in line for? And then it hit me, like a ton of truffles: they were standing on line outside the famous Li-Lac chocolate store because it was Valentine’s Day. And after trying to make fun of those shivering fools for a bit, I gave up and realized I had been much happier when I didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day.
I wish that for all of you who don’t have a Valentine – to just go about your day, as happy as a clam. The irony of course is that this post of mine might have been the thing that reminded you of it. If so, I apologize. Go get a massage or buy yourself chocolates or eat that pint of Ben & Jerry’s. If there’s a guilt-free day to indulge yourself, this is it.
I don’t really like Valentine’s Day much better now as I always feel this weird social pressure to be the woman, or the girlfriend, or the {insert traditional feminine gender role here}. This year, Betty and I are thinking we might reverse things, or make things normal, for us. That is, I get to buy the flowers and pull chairs and open doors. The only problem is, I’m still the one who likes chocolates, and we both like silk lingerie, and I’m not quite cool & groovy with my butch side yet. It’s natural, but after repressing it for so long, it still feels weird, and likewise for Betty, so we end up either both of us waiting for the other one to get the door, or both of us grabbing the door to open it, at the same time.
That is, we have no idea what we’re doing in this gender nebulous space. We’re always guessing and second guessing what the ‘correctly gendered’ role is, and what we actually feel naturally, and then trying to figure out if those two things align or don’t.
So for the record: I do want chocolates. Betty does want underwear. And after that, I have no idea. I would like to think we might be creative about how to combine eating chocolates and taking off underwear, perhaps.