“It’s the day for love.” Martin commented. Nobody had asked him what day it was let alone what the day was for. But Martin, ever engraved in the customs of this world, relished in his understanding of valentine’s day despite the fact that his love life was in absolute tatters.

  Martin did once have a girlfriend but they split up at the end of the previous year after his girlfriend found him masturbating furiously to a video of Dogs fucking. “Dogs Martin!” She had screamed at the top of her lungs. “You zoophile!”

  “I’m a furry!” He had yelled back. “I’m attracted to sexual acts depicted by creatures who have fur!” And I had realized then what a barrow Pornography was, a barrow leading to a network of labyrinths whose sole purpose was to ensure you never saw the light of day.

  Martin, tall and lanky Martin. Whose eyes always squinted as if everything was unclear. Martin whose skin was the color of deep earth and his nose was bulbous, perched on his face like an heirloom prophesying disaster. He breathed in and exhaled with a smile. He loved, that was what he did. He loved with passion and zeal bordering on odium. And today was the day he languished the most in his thoughts of love, and he offered a word to any who would hear regarding the magnificence of the day.

  “My mother and father met on Valentine’s day.” He said when I failed to offer input to his earlier remark. We sat in a restaurant, he’d taken the seat opposite mine without me asking him to do so. That’s just how Martin was, always believing it implied that his presence was necessary.

  “They must have been in love.” I said, only to usher the conversation into whatever conclusion that might be met.

  “They hated each other.” Martin said. “They met on valentine’s day, my father was a plumber, he’d gone to my mom’s place to fix the drainage and ended up screwing it up more than fix it. My mother was ovulating and their heated exchange led to sex and in nine months I was born.”

  “That’s, unique.” I said.

  “They argued after the sex, my mom told me. And when she discovered she was pregnant with his child, she sought to kill herself. The pills she popped ended up causing her brain damage and she lost motor functions on some of the fingers on her right hand.” Martin said.

  “Jesus.” I said for lack of a better word.

  “Luckily I survived, and here I am now, a testament to the power of love.” Martin said. It was more of a testament to the power of perseverance in the face of adversity. The world didn’t want him born, didn’t want him breathing its fine air. Yet here he was breathing it.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “You broke up with Janice.” Everyone knew the dog story and how they’d broken up but I wanted solitude and I thought this would drive him off.

  “Janice, Bianca, Faith, Emily.” Martin said. “I’ve loved and lost and as the great ones said, the ones who’d traversed this plane when cars and planes didn’t even exist as ideas. Those men of old spoke without fear and declared that it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have discovered either.” it was the first time the saying was used so wrong.

  “I for one believe that love is something personal. Like, it’s felt by an individual and its celebration should be according to the individual’s predisposition not what corporations use as a reason to sell flowers, chocolate and condoms.” To get him to leave, I would set aflame his very reason for joy.

  “I once bought my girlfriend glucose on valentine’s day, a whole lot of glucose. The joke was that she’ll need the energy once I’m done plowing her. She didn’t get the joke and that ended my relationship with Emily.” Martin said.

  “Love hasn’t been kind to you, has it?”

  “Love is something that warrants neither kindness nor pity, it is something that exists on its own and its presence is known not because of other qualities tethered to it, but purely due to its own existence.” Martin said while motioning with his hand towards me, as if what he had said should move me deeply to the point where I take out my phone and ask him to repeat what he’d said so I can have a wank to it later.

  “Has there been someone, a person who moved you to love more than anything ever has or ever will?” I don’t know why I asked him that question. Maybe because it was valentine and I was catching the fever. He wasn’t going to leave me alone, that much was clear so I might as well prod him.

  “Her name was Sam, I dated her for six weeks and never in my life was I enamored by someone.” Martin said.

  “How did it come to an end?” I asked.

  “I found out Sam wasn’t the short for Samantha. It was instead short for Samuel. The she in this matter was actually a he. A transvestite.”

  “What the fuck.”

  “I always wondered why Sam never allowed me to have sex with her in broad daylight. It was always during the night. Should have taken that as a sign.” Martin said, dipping his head in mock lament. “I guess that’s why I was attracted to Sam, she had this mystery about her, as if she was always masquerading as someone else. And I, the ever radiant beacon of love, fell for the act.”

  “Uhuh.”

  “That’s the thing about falling in love with an act, the fantasies and conversations born out of one’s understanding of the act seem truer than the actual thing. And this holds even a greater mirror to love than anything a casual vanilla relationship would hold.” Martin said. A dog passed outside the restaurant and Martin turned his head to stare at it, longer than was normal.

  “I better go.” I said.

  XXXXXXXXX

  If you enjoyed this article and want to support sleepless creativity, consider clicking the donate button and subscribing to my Patreon. Your support unlocks access to more chapters, exclusive content, and keeps the caffeine flowing! Thank you for keeping the dream alive—even if sleep isn't.