In retrospect, I believe the curse started oozing its way into my life, all the way back in kindergarten. It was the first sign (albeit small and subtle) that the month of February was not my friend. In fact, it was an enemy, established to drive me to the brink of insanity. And there have been several February's over the years, that nearly succeeded in doing it.

That February in 1968 (kindergarten year), I remember working so hard to complete each and every little Valentine day card for my classmates. And, as anyone with kids can attest to, it can take a good while for a 5 yr old to write out their name on each little Valentine card. But, as my obsessive/compulsive traits were well on their way to being firmly ingrained, along with my perfectionistic view on things, I was going to go one better. So I set about to the task of putting each calssmates name on the envelope. This took me hours!! the night before the party. I painstakingly worked to be as neat as possible. I was exausted by the time my head hit the pillow. But ready for my very first Valentine Day party!

The problem is, that finding each classmates gigantic heart shaped scribbled on envelope, with their names messily put somewhere on it, took time. In fact it took the whole damn party for me to make my way thru half of my cards. Treats sat uneaten on my desk, classmates chatted, laughed and had fun, while I toiled away at getting them their frickin' cards!!! Party ended, and I was sent home, only half way thru my task. Mrs. F had me just put the remainder on my desk, to "give the kids the following monday." I cried the whole 3 blocks home, and then again, when mom asked me what was wrong. The following monday of course, had me hunting high and low for the remainder of cards, that I learned years later, the janitor had tossed in the garbage when he cleaned up our classroom. Yes, this was my first taste of depression associated with February, AND Valenintes Day.

And it was by no means my last. Although my memories of early Feb's have dimmed with the years, the tone was usually the same. My beautiful, blonde bubbly cheerleader sister, was overwhelmed in H.S. with various Valentines, usually coming from various boys. ( We were only a year and a half apart in age, so the sibling rivalry thing was always a part of day to day life.) In this area Trina always won hands down. I would usually do my best to stay away from her, during this excruciating time of year. It always seemed, I was not dating anyone during V day. Not that that ever affected Trina's ability to rack in the loot. She was bubbly and outgoing. I was more quiet, and reserved. (at school only) She was a cute little 5'4" I was a looming 5'10" She had blonde bouncy hair, I was brunette. (my penchant for blonde jokes were often fueled by my adorable little sister) I know it had little to do with looks, because my sister had overheard the neighbor ladies discussing the two of us with mom, and the consensus was that Tamber had got the beauty. So that brings us to what? shitty personality? too damn tall? too shy? Whatever it was, I spent far too much time analyzing why the opposite sex had failed to live up to any expectations I may have wanted, regarding Valentines Day.

So this brings me in to "the adult years." Where lets just say, I learned how to be much more outgoing, and flirtatious. And had been taught (with the aid of an uncooked hot dog) by one of my sluttier girlfriends, how to give a blow job. Like any task I set out to learn, I wanted to be the best. This she said, would enable me to keep the boyfriend, without giving away my virginity. I was soon dating from H.S. the very popular and rich (if daddy's money counts!) Brett. He drove a MG convertible, which to an 18 yr old girl was impressive. (Not condusive with necking in though. or other more intimate activities) We quit seeing each other in the middle of January. ( The cheap prick!) Which gave me two things to mourn in Feb. Breaking up, and no valentines, yet again. So much for the lessons.

The following Feb. found me with hubby #1. Who had assured me after my tales of woe reagrding this gloomy "holiday" that he was going to make it my best! And he did. I received every form of Valentine you could think of. Candy, flowers, cards, a gold necklace, and 4 foot tall heart, he covered in tin foil and wrote a love letter on. (Corny, but I finally had realized my dreams of a romantic V-day.) The problem? I also received what was the first of many beatings. I am not going to go into the gory details, other then to say, that on Feb. 15th I had 2 black eyes, and various bruises all over my face, neck and arms. This pretty much made the rest of Feb. a hazy depression, that had me walking around like a zombie in The Dawn of the Dead.

The following February found me signing the divorce papers. Which I guess at this point didn't really matter. The depression of divorce tinged many months that year. Although I have the clear memory of the divorce being final that month.

My memories of the years to come are much more clear. And vivid in their detail. And did end up making each member of my family a believer (although they deny it once Feb is over) in the month that was/is cursed. As well as any close friends that were the audience for my misery.

But as I headed thru the end of 1984, I had discovered the "I don't need a boyfriend/husband thing to make me happy. So I was already steeling myself for the coming 1985 Feb. Working hard to brainwash myself into making Feb, just another month.....