A Valentine’s Message – Fiction

A Valentine’s Message

by Liz Starbuck
illustration by Kevin Banks

Those of you who’ve read my columns before probably think that all I’m interested in is sex, but that’s just cuz I think that’s what you want to read about. Ya wanna know what I really think? I think all you single women out there are absolutely cool as shit, and most of you [heterosexual] single men are stone-cold petrified by that. What the fuck?! Just take a goddamned chance, willya?! The women are out there doing their shit, learning new stuff, developing their art or their music or their businesses, being beautiful and different and trying to teach themselves more self-reliance, but all the while berating themselves with the questions, “What am I doing wrong? Why do men date me three or four times or fuck me once and then disappear?” We spend all our time reassuring each other that, yes, we’re doing great, and we’re beautiful and sexy besides – and it ain’t no lie! The women in Boston are totally fucking incredible. (And most of the women you know, Dear Lollipop Reader, are not interested in money or cars or three-piece suits, so don’t gimme that lame excuse.)

Meanwhile, all the men can do is talk about how scary love is – if they’re not too busy watching football or going to band practice to talk about it at all. At best, they agree with women that men are scum. Then they launch into some monologue about how ugly or disgusting men are (what do they know?). Thank you – that’s very reassuring. Ah, that women could “choose” to be lesbians…

Would you guys get a clue?! When are you going to learn (as women do when they’re 15 years old) that if someone makes you tongue-tied and nervous and sick to your stomach, that you damned well better stuff your fears into a box and walk right up to her (or, better yet for you, not hide in a corner when she walks up to you). When are you gonna learn that the fact that it’s scary means it might actually be worth something? When are you gonna realize that if you sleep together and it’s way fucking amazing, that doesn’t mean you’re going to have to give up your artistic vision or your entire personality if you see her again (or even just call her the next day)? When are you gonna stop idolizing strippers and models (but only the ones who aren’t smarter than you) and take a look at the women you work or play music with, or sleep with one time when you’re drunk and have a great time, or cry to when your stripper dumps you for a better job in New York? When are you gonna stop playing it safe and go for what you say it is that you want – a relationship with someone who sees you for what you are and accepts – or maybe even loves – you for it anyway? Find one of the 90% of women around here who are pretty and smart and have initiative – who can turn you on with her mind as well as her tits – and run with it! Then we can all be happy. And I won’t have to keep listening to all you fuckers whine.

* My apologies to all you exceptions. But who needs ya anyway, now that you’re moving to the suburbs?