i am the scrooge of valentine's. yeah, right! bet you'd be rolling your eyes at me, mary jane. but because the most romantic thing i'll ever receive this valentine's is a free heart-shaped balloon they give at jollibee for every purchase worth 150 pesos, i have every right to call st. valentine's a humbug. and tonight, while the cold midnight air is serenaded with sappy love songs from hundreds of concerts somewhere, the child eros pays me a visit and tells of my three valentine ghosts with a playful grin on his face.

eros of the valentine past
a young 16-year-old boy nervously stands in front of me and speaks of his intention to court me with his most charming reticence. from that moment the first idea of love was defined through the bashful attempts of youth at love letters, flowers, chocolates and unexpected visits at my house every weekend. he is a boy with eyes that disappear into slits whenever he laughs, and loves with all his carefree disposition and juvenile view of things. he is my first love. five years. he never knew who i really am.

eros of the valentine present
for the first time, i find myself playing mind games, learning the art of mind-reading while seeping coffee and staring intently into the eyes of the guy across my table. in between inquiries about his favorite books, music and movies, i scan my brain for the rules of dating as advised by friends who are supposed to know better. the night ends with a quick peck on the cheek and a promise to see each other again. most of the time i have fun but on some nights i lie sleepless, staring blankly at the ceiling and wondering how things would be a lot different had he just held my hand. in the stillness of the night all the heat from my neck, belly, hands and thighs slowly seep into my bed; a thousand vivid images flood my mind as i lick my lips for memories of love's last kiss.

eros of the valentine future
a young seven-year-old kid blows me a goodbye kiss as he walks into his classroom. his name is phoenix and he has fine hair, fair skin colour and the adorable humour of his father. his father--a tall and charming man i married when i was 27. we'd usually argue about his stubbornness and my unrelenting doubt of his sincerity, but at the end of the day, we'd still love each other like it was the first time.

of course this last part is just a fabrication of my mind, a common dream all ordinary girls share. i don't know if in the real future i would have to find this entry and re-write it the way it really happened. however, as scrooge-y i am about valentine's day, i am still a girl who hopes that there is that tall and charming man i will marry when i reach 27.