chase lucy st valentine's day

A St Valentine’s story – mine

Tired of the regular St Valentine’s story? So you have to hear mine. It’s a regular St Valentine’s story, but I haven’t told anyone yet. You’ll be the first one to know that – and that makes my St Valentine’s story special.

To be honest, Angelo knows the whole story, but he doesn’t count, you know.

Questions before start reading: Do you believe in coincidences? Do you believe in true love? Do you believe in life after somebody broke your heart? Whichever way you answered, have a seat.

I belong to the broad army of people who hate St Valentine’s day. It’s a stupid celebration. However, when you have a romantic girlfriend who’s very into these stupidities, you only have to lower your head and your pride to please her.

This is a St Valentine’s story of a loser who decided to get a wedding ring to her girlfriend for Valentine’s day. The loser would’ve proposed to her eventually, after a romantic dinner and all that boring jazz. The loser knew the wedding would have been sorted by the bride-to-be, so he thought of sorting out the honey moon, recalling that brilliant holiday he and his girlfriend had at Canary Islands in mid February, when in London was so cold, dump and miserable.

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The loser had just started his rota with his partner Anthony, when his mate went out of the office for a phone call, losing something out of his trousers’ back pocket. It was a love card with a signature. My girlfriend’s signature.

You must be an idiot to get caught this way, right? Or maybe he did want to be busted on purpose. I never knew the truth, I never gave Anthony the opportunity to explain. I only broke his nose.
Then, after my boss suspended me for 20 days, I went to my girlfriend and called her a whore. And I slammed the door. I never slam doors, but that time I thought it was appropriate.
After a few months, I left London and moved here in Tursenia.

To be honest, Lucy was not the main reason why I left my bright career at Scotland Yard and hided myself in the anonymous Italian countryside. However, she was indeed the trigger of a whole turn of events.

I’m not a person who stopped believing in love etc after what happened to me, I’m not so idiotic. I just became very cynical.
Perhaps this is also an excuse to justify the person I am. I’ve always been a bit awkward with women, I never get anything right.
Moms adore me, but after a while their daughters get tired or bored, and dump me. Maybe I should be more like an asshole, but I’ve always been a big asshole at work – indeed, if you are not a dick the thugs  will kick you ass – so I compensate that in my private life.

Women like assholes, yet Lucy seemed to have seen enough bitchiness in me. I was wrong. So wrong she eventually picked the biggest asshole in the whole known universe.

Why I finally decided to tell my St Valentine’s story? Because no matter how often I repeat that in my mind, Lucy’s hard to forget. I had some women after her, but in the end they always left me, perhaps because I was looking for Lucy in them. I don’t know.

In short – this is my story, the story I never told anyone, and now I leave it within the www, so that some losers who are searching for something like ‘funny St Valentine’s story’ can find it and have a laugh.

EDIT: To be honest, now that I can see everything written down here, I think I screwed that up writing it.
EDIT2: However, I don’t know why but I feel much better now.
EDIT3: Anthony, do f* you. Forever and ever.

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