Oh Valentine's Day, a Dirty Vixen of Excitement and Disappointment

Now, I know I'm posting two days late, but I wasted an hour of my time and I'll steal some of yours if you... take... this... bait... 🤔🤗😅😚

Oh Valentine's Day

It was February 2014, I was 19 and had been dating a guy who was substantially older than me, someone who, if anyone knew him, would repetitively advise me against dating. It took over half a year for me to even agree to give him my number, even though I was hopelessly enamoured with him and thought about him regularly. I'd heard what a womanizer he was, and so on. He was so persistent for so long, and would come into the bar I worked at every weekend, blowing hundreds of dollars just to flirt with me. Seriously, only me... I figured maybe he was ready to change and, like so many others, I thought I'd be the one to change him. Flash forward six months, the smoke of his endearment was starting to clear and I noticed small things that made me question whether or not it was truly a monogamous relationship, a relationship which, by the way, he had established. A longtime friend of mine, who was also a close friend and employee of his (one who had made his interest in me very clear and always felt quite spiteful I had started seeing his boss and not him, whoops) told me some outrageous things. This mutual friend told me he had been sleeping with multiple women, including his ex girlfriend who was also six months pregnant with his unborn child, and that he was having a relationship with both of us. Knowing what I knew of him and my already growing suspicions, I believed that these things were going on and decided to message him. I told him I knew everything and that we could just break up with no strings attached, no stupid grudges, no fighting; the ultimate free pass for the last six months of douchebaggery and spare my feelings from getting shattered even further. He immediately responded, outraged, and told me that it was all bullshit and that our mutual friend was just jealous of us, et cetera. I felt terrible that I had accused him and we proceeded to message back and forth. I was working two jobs at the time, he was running a business and it sounded like we weren't going to be able to see each other for a week or two. He asked me when I would be free next and told him I had never been taken out for Valentine's day. He was "angry" that I had never been given the treatment I deserved and promised he would show me the most magical Valentine's day ever to restore my faith in the day and shower me in all the flowers I had never been given. Hook, line and sinker, I was wooed and told him he could pick me up when I was done with work at 8 pm, giving myself a little time to change and freshen up. When the 14th came around we were messaging all day he was saying how excited he was to see me and I didn't even have time to read all the messages of praise and adoration that were rolling in... That was until about seven thirty when I messaged him that I was almost off shift A. K. A I had rushed to finish work early and was fixing my makeup and getting changed in the bathroom. As the preparation ensued, I asked him if he thought he would be on time or if I should wait outside because the shop was closing. It wasn't until 8pm he promptly messaged back "I'll be late" and as any woman knows, my response was, "how late?" An hour and a half later, anxiously waiting outside for my horse and white Escalade, he wrote me a message that included his confession to everything that I had accused him of weeks earlier and that he was going to try to make things work with his ex "for the kid," which would all be well and good, but it was as if he was trying to make himself feel like a good person about the absolute runaround fuckabout shit he done to get to that point.

The last time I saw him at the bar, he was flirting with me and some others, he asked me to go back to his tattoo shop with him for drinks. I then told him he was undoubtedly going to lose the one good thing he had going for him (his ex-slash-current girlfriend and kids–plural, he's had multiple with different mothers) if he didn't change and start appreciating what he had, so on so forth. He started crying, drank his drink, and told me I was right. He thanked me and left the bar. I haven't seen him out since. We live in a small town with only two nightlife spots so that actually sort of means something... Hopefully for his sake. #Myworstdate