Page 68 of Valentine's Slave

Hailey has a stash of tequila for emergencies like this.

“You know, I haven’t even drunk alcohol in the last five days,” I muse. “I was so high on the natural way of things, on our connection, I didn’t need it. Alcohol numbs us. We use it when we’re running away from something else, or at least I did.”

“Okay, then, scratch the alcohol,” Hailey says. “How about popcorn and chick flicks?”

Tears fill my eyes. “I can’t watch movies about love right now.”

“Tragic love films?”

“That’s a bit better.”

Hailey smiles. “This calls forMoulin Rouge. Or even better,Wuthering Heights. Heathcliff is a tool.”

“Heathcliff is iconic,” I argue.

“I know he’s your hero, but he’s a tool.”

We spend the night watching movies. Malcolm even hangs around forWuthering Heights, since Ralph Fiennes, who plays Voldemort fromHarry Potter, plays Heathcliff. Hailey and I don’t talk about Valentino anymore, even though I keep my phone close by, hoping I’ll hear from him, but it’s silent all night.

* * *

The next day, I’m in a dark haze, and I look up attachment theory. I definitely have an anxious attachment, though I don’t think that’s why I miss Valentino so much. He was all wrong, but at the same time, he was just . . . right for me. Or at least that was the way it felt.

After three days of stuffing myself with chocolate and drowning in misery, I finally shake myself out of it, or at least I try. I have my two interviews, both of which seem to have exceptional potential. I’m expecting a callback for both, and in the meantime, I dedicate myself to working on my blog.

Now, instead of a travel blog, I’m thinking something more along the lines of dating and sexuality. No one talks about real dating situations and sexual pleasure, and there should be more female writers educating other women and men on the topic. Not that I’m an expert by any means, but I have a punchy vibe to my writing, and I think it would work well with the genre and style. It might just be the perfect niche, and I could interview people, rate products, give tips from my own experience. The possibilities are endless.

Instead of sinking into depression like I did when I broke up with Shawn, I put every free second into my new project. If I’m broken-hearted, I’m at least going to make good use of it. I write an article on breakups, and it gets the most views I’ve had in months.

I may just be on to something.

Valentino still invades my every thought like a fucking ghost, but I won’t give in to him. I can have a happy life without him, and if he wants to walk out, then he can go fuck himself. I won’t ruin my life over him.

By the end of the week, I’ve written four articles, and I have ideas for many more. My progress has made me feel surprisingly upbeat and social. On Thursday night, I sign up for a few dating sites, just for the hell of it. I want nothing to do with other guys, but lots of hilarious and awkward things happen on dates, and I can make that one of my categories: ‘Real-Life Dating Stories’.

Hailey seems pleased at my change in energy, and on Friday evening, I have my first date lined up. Malcolm is all smiley after school because Hollywood Undead just announced their American tour, and I promised him we’d buy tickets as soon as they go on sale next week.

“I’ll be your bodyguard again,” he promises.

“I know you will.” It’s a shame that things didn’t work out with Valentino, as it would have done Malcolm good to have a solid male role model in his life. But as Valentino would say, what’s out of your control is neither good nor bad. It just is. It’s still a weird concept, but I discovered a podcast called Stoicism on Fire, which has been insightful during my writing breaks. I’m not sure what I think of the whole stoic philosophy yet, but it’s definitely food for thought, and it helps me not to feel so awful and empty. I still kind of do, but I don’t feed the feelings as much, and as a result, they don’t get worse.

At 7 p.m., I get ready to go on my date, not the least bit excited, but telling myself that I’ll get a good story out of it. Just for kicks, I put on the vibrating panties from Valentino. It is Friday, after all, and I did make him a promise. I’m living my life with or without him, and I’m damn well going to have a good time. I go to grab the remote to tuck into my purse, but it’s not where I left it.

Malcolm is on the couch readingHarry Potter, and I scour every nook and cranny of the living room for that damn remote.

“Are you excited for your date, Aunt Ava?” Malcolm pipes up.

I shrug. “Not much, but it’s somewhere to go.”

He smiles. “I hope you haven’t stopped believing in true love.”

Says the ten-year-old who’s never been in love.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “Valentine’s Day is over, Malcolm.”

“It’s not about the day; it’s about your actions,” he says. “And it should be all year round, not only on Valentine’s.”

“Well, you tell your mom that the next time she tries to date a loser,” I say. “I’m going to be late.”

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