66. Happy Valentine’s Day

The name on the door was G. Hosaphatt.

As usual, the door flew open, and The Creator looked to me for approval. Every once in a while, it strikes me how truly fucked that is.

God started the conversation. “So how was your Valentine’s Day?”

“Dude, I’m separated. Divorce is the light at the end of the tunnel. How do you think it was?”

The Almighty shrugged as he gave me a puzzled look.

I had to continue. “One year ago, on Valentine’s Day, I noticed my wife was paying extra attention to her appearance as she was getting ready for work. This is while we were supposed to be reconciling from the ‘issues’ she had actively caused in our marriage. She barely responded to anything I said, but hummed happily as she fixed her hair. She told me she was going to need some more ‘alone’ time that week.”

The All-knowing God was still a little unsure. “So you didn’t have a good Valentine’s Day last year?”

I sighed. “That was the day I realized our marriage was over, and I made the decision to separate. Four days later, I told her so.”

The Supreme Being gasped. “Wow, dude. What a buzzkill when you’re trying to celebrate the beheading of St. Valentine. So last year was a bust, but how about this year? Did you at least get drunk and revel in the misery Val must have been feeling?”

“Hmm. You know, that IS pretty much what I did this year … wait … what? Celebrate the beheading? That doesn’t sound so romantic.”

Another gasp. “Well of course not. What’s romantic about a beheading? Why would you think that there should be romance on the day Val’s head rolled?”

“You may be a little out of touch on this issue, Jeff. Valentine’s Day is considered a day for people who are in love. People who are in couples stress about what to get each other and what to do to perfectly express their love for each other. People who aren’t in couples wallow in self-pity.”

Still puzzled. “That seems odd. Traditionally, it was celebrated as the day of Val’s execution. Nothing romantic about that at all.”

Now it was my turn to be puzzled. “Why would we celebrate that?”

Yahweh shrugged. “Mmm. I don’t know. I mean, he was kind of an arsehole.”