My worst Valentine’s Day ever was two years ago. I was dating a guy that I’d been off and on with for three years. I bought him an expensive pool stick, a bag to go with it, ordered him a dozen roses, and paid to have a poem written for him. I had planned the whole evening out already.
He called me that morning and told me that he had too much going on in his life and didn’t have time for a girlfriend. Especially a serious one. So I decided that I would go out with a friend to try not to think about it. That night I saw him out with another woman.
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