And what about your Valentine's Day?

I spent Valentine's Day with an infection. I planned to light a candle and enjoy watching the series alone in bed. I didn't really plan anything special for the day. I even forgot about Valentine's and bathed under Friday's errands, which had no end. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but think again about how couples spend their time during the flood of culinary offerings on this day of love.

I was working from home and was surprised when my father brought my mother a bouquet of tulips after a week of silent mass. A little joy, and then the day was again wrapped in a mixture of silence and everyday sentences. I continued working and later prepared lunch and cleaned up. When a friend called me, I was happy to go for a cup of coffee. I was deciding what to wear - sweatpants or jeans. I chose the latter because you can't spend all your days in sweatpants. On the way there, the snow on the ground reminded me that it might brighten Valentine's Eve for couples celebrating. Of course, I imagined those who were stuck at home in a warm bed and watching the white landscape through the window.  

I bought eggs at the vending machine in front of the bar, and at that time, it seemed like a typical Friday. As I said, full of chores and troubles. But when I stepped into the bar, it was swarming with people. All the seats were taken as they should have been on Friday evening. It was only when I put down the bag and eggs and settled in with a glass of wine in my hand that I looked around the room. Big groups of friends were in the minority this time. The bar was occupied mainly by couples, and I could see a palette of expressions drawn on their faces.  

The first ones I secretly observed during the conversation were a little older than me. They could not let go of each other's eyes. On the table were empty plates with some smeared chocolate on them. They held glasses of wine and murmured for a while, their noses touching. Every once in a while, they exchanged some tenderness. They seemed satisfied, and because I like to make stories in my mind, when they were leaving, I imagined their romantic evening to continue in bed. Of all the couples in the bar, they had the most considerable potential to be the ones who conceived their child right on Valentine's Eve.

After they left, I took a break, and a group of guys sat down at the next table, who wanted to get the waitress's attention in every way, even by buying her shots. At the same time, four girls were sitting outside, laughing aloud and probably forgetting all about Valentine's Day.  

While I was smoking, an elderly couple stepped out of the bar, who I imagined had just eaten cake, had tea, and was on their way home. I have no idea if they are regular visitors to this bar, but it seemed they took time for the lovers' day and spent some time with each other. They were leaving satisfied, and I imagined they were returning to the domestic monotony of living as a couple. When they got home, they changed into more comfortable clothes and lay each in their corner on the couch. He probably dozed off earlier than she did, and she rejoiced because she had a few minutes just for herself before the night took her away.  

Although my visit to the bed was also approaching, I couldn't help but pay attention to observing the third and last couple. I found these two most interesting because they were the embodied cliché of Valentine's disappointment. She was beautifully overdressed for that bar where I could come in yoga pants, and he, who probably had the same mindset as me, was in sweatpants. All that spoiled her appearance was the frown on her face. In my opinion, he completely forgot that it was Valentine's Day, and because he did not know otherwise, he grabbed the last opportunity and promised to take her out in the evening. She probably imagined dinner in a Michelin-star restaurant, not the evening in the bar where she landed. She browsed the phone and reluctantly answered the guy's questions.  

I was sorry to go home, I had just started building their story in my head, but it was time to leave Valentine's Day there. I experienced and completed three Valentine's stories in my mind. I wanted them to be related to this day, although they could also happen on any other day. Before I went to bed, I took another look at the windows of the illuminated apartments and wondered what they were doing on Valentine's Eve. Then, I soon abandoned the thought and crawled into bed with the infection.