February 15: Blood Trail, Hallmark Movie, Double Down

Santiago cleans his wound . . . 

Shifting the weight of the line to his left shoulder and kneeling carefully he washed his hand in the ocean and held it there, submerged, for more than a minute watching the blood trail away and the steady movement of the water against his hand as the boat moved.

So, here is Santiago cleaning out the cut he received on his hand from a dumb mistake.

Yesterday, I wrote about Valentine shaming.  The thing that happens on Facebook every February 14 where people post pictures of their perfect loves.  I knew that I might receive some pushback on my words.  I did.  Perhaps yesterday's post was a dumb mistake on my part, and I'm still bleeding a little from some of the responses.

I'm about to double down on my dumb mistake.

I am not jaded or angry or depressed.  I believe in love.  Real love.  On social media, we want everyone to see us at our bests.  That's why we photoshop pictures.  We live in a mediated age, where reality isn't good enough.  We all want to be Hallmark movie stars.  I want to be a Hallmark movie star (although I lack the physique, jawline, and flannel shirts).  But that just isn't what love is.

As I said yesterday, life is messy.  Love is messy.  You can't get around it.  Any person who has been in any kind of long-term relationship will be attest to this fact.  If they don't, they're lying.  There is no way to reflect in a Facebook post the kinds of struggles and joys that occur in lengthy love relationships.

Instead, what we end up seeing on social media are the kinds of posts that make some people insecure and/or depressed about their own love lives.  Or lack thereof.  My Valentine's Day post was my dumb mistake way of trying to tell people that love is not a Hallmark movie.  It's more like Terms of Endearment, hopefully without the terminal cancer.  

I fiercely love the people in my life, with all their faults and downfalls.  I am lucky to have people who fiercely love me, despite all of my failings.  That is what I want to celebrate.  Unconditional love.

There, I said it.  You can all go back to your Hallmark fantasies now.

And Saint Marty is going to go clean up all the cuts and bruises he received after yesterday's post.