Ghosts of Valentine’s Past

We spent the night in one of my favorite hotels (The Adam's Mark in Denver, Colorado), and when I finally completely opened my eyes, the first sight with which I was greeted were white tulips and yellow roses (my favorites) which sat above the bags I knew contained my gifts. Room Service had just left, and a breakfast spread had been provided with attention to the finest details of my prefered tastes, as he feigned sleep next to me. This is how I woke up on Valentine's Day (in a year I won't disclose)...with not one thought about how his woman felt waking up at their home...in bed...alone. We spent the night before with his friends in the club, and their girlfriends. Their wives were at home with the children, or at work, or to wherever else they went to never interlope on my good time or linger on my mind.

Her gift had been delivered via a courier service, coupled with a quickly hand-scribbled note that suredly included some disdain for his having to work so far from home and missing her...and how he was so lucky to have a girlfriend who was so understanding about his career...probably insinuating that one day she'd be his wife. I never put much thought into whether that warmed her heart...maybe because I never had to think past the fact that he was warming my bed.

Across America there are women waking up to a Pink Christmas in February, text messages...and quite possibly...nothing at all. This year, I woke up to kisses from a toddler and the sound of one of the most important men in my life (my godson, who just happens to be 7) getting dressed for school. This is my first Valentine's Day since my retirement...from being a Side Chick.

I've always known that I was the woman on the side. Its not hard at all...even if you don't pay much attention. Some women (and even men) just would rather not see the truth. I have never really understood how people could really not know what was going on right in front of them, and all around them...but...I just blame it on being caught up in their feelings. Truthfully, I prefer to NOT be the "Main Chick" in a man's life...that gives no room to fuck up...and...I fuck up. I was really good at playing my role...maintaining my position, and reaping the benefits of such. For me, being the "Other Woman" meant I was the one who went on trips, had fun, hung out with the homeboys, and didn't have to deal with his attitude...it was his wife/girlfriend/fiancee’s job to deal with his non-fun persona (As far as I know, I have never been with a married man). I’m the one for whom he is willing to make her sad...she just shared his house.