Valentine’s Day

I think Valentine’s Day is overrated. Now, I’m not saying I don’t believe in love, kindness,
happiness, gift-giving, or celebrating. Individually, they’re all fine, but throwing them together
like this? It’s just too much. And I’m pretty sure a lot of people agree with me because th
Marilyn Night Club’s Valentine’s event was almost at full capacity! In fact, they had to extend
it for two more days, turning it into a full-on Valentine’s weekend! And let’s be real…who goes
to a strip club on Valentine’s Day? Exactly. Not happy couples! So, my theory holds up.
There was one time (one single time in my entire life) when I actually spent this so-called
romantic holiday in a relationship. I must admit, I wasn’t in love. The relationship had only
been going on for a few weeks with this girl: let’s call her Viki.

Viki was cool, smart, independent, and genuinely fun to be around. Finally, a girl with a sense
of humour! I didn’t have to explain jokes to her, and she didn’t get offended over things most
girls would. I found her interesting, and I enjoyed spending time with her. So, we’d been
casually seeing each other when February 14th rolled around. I hesitated for a bit…should I
ask her out that day? What if she read too much into it?

In the end, I invited her to a fancy restaurant for dinner. She seemed just as awkward about it
as I was. Even though I hadn’t brought flowers, chocolates, or any kind of gift, an
uncomfortable silence settled over us for the first few minutes. The restaurant had gone all
out for the occasion. Red and pink hearts covered everything from the ceiling to the floor.
The menu had five courses, and every single dish had some ridiculous name referencing
love or sex. The ice finally broke when we started flipping through it.

The names of the dishes were an absolute crime against gastronomy—like “Cupid’s Arrow”
(some kind of grilled meat) or the dessert called “Sweet Fulfilment.” Within minutes, we were
crying with laughter.

The dinner itself was a solid 10/10, and the wine pairings were spot on. Viki had this favourite
game where she’d try to guess the life stories of other couples in the restaurant. She’d make
up names for them and go into wild detail, as if she knew them.

For example: Julcsi and János—married for 20 years. János is a gambling addict with a taste
for escorts. Years ago, he gambled away the entire family fortune, but Julcsi has no idea.
She’s a stay-at-home wife, obsessed with cleaning and collecting expensive porcelain
figurines. What she doesn’t know is that János secretly replaced most of them with fakes to
pay off his debts. Oh, and by the way, the waitress? She’s János’s mistress. She didn’t drop
those plates by accident—she was pissed that he dared to bring his wife here, of all places,
on this night.

Viki created a backstory for every couple around us, and the night kept getting more
entertaining. The wine was definitely kicking in, and by the time we reached our “Sweet
Fulfilment,” we had dissected every single guest and staff member in the restaurant.
Then I asked Viki to tell a story about us.

She hesitated for a moment but then started:
“Viki and Szabolcs—both die-hard singles. Neither of them knows why they’re even in this
restaurant on Valentine’s Day because neither of them is looking for anything serious.
Ironically, they’d be a perfect match, but neither is willing to give up their independence.
Marriage? Kids? Not for them. Tonight, they’re just playing pretend, acting like a normal

couple for one night. But deep down, they both know that in a month, they won’t even
remember each other’s names.
But right now, this night is theirs.
They’ll try to imagine what it would be like if things were different… but there won’t be a
sequel.”

I didn’t laugh. Neither did she.

Her description was eerily accurate.

I didn’t argue, and she didn’t expect me to.

That night, she came home with me. It was a perfect date. But in the morning, all that was
left was a note on my nightstand with a single word:
Freedom.

I never saw her again.

But I thought about her for weeks, even months.
You know that saying—”If you love something, let it go”?
Maybe we did love each other.
Who knows?