Oh, what a Trollope St. woman (yes, here in Halifax) I’ve been for love. When it comes to romance, I’m still the biggest fool this world ever knew.

Back in April, I was so happy, so hopeful. My premiere man, John Hamm, was cozying up to me. We were working on things. We had a future.

John said he would be sending me money with no strings attached, like some kind of manna from heaven. Right away I started planning what to do with my windfall. There was no shortage of suggestions. Charities began calling me. The NDP was friendlier. Church groups told me not to take his money. They said John was just trying to buy my affection.

When NDP finance critic Graham Steele called John’s token of love, “a modern day version of rum, silk stockings and chocolates,” I knew what I would do.

I wouldn’t send the money back. I wouldn’t give it to charity. I would ask John out on a date and treat him right. I budgeted what to do with my $155, right in these pages, throwing open my girlish desire to all of Nova Scotia.

I called everywhere, but I couldn’t find silk stockings for love nor money, so I settled on $60 Ibici stockings. I would get a big bottle of rum. And Godiva Chocolates — only the best for my John. And if there was any money left over, I would get candles.

Since that day in April I’ve been waiting, planning, dreaming, scheming; such are the dreams of an everyday girl in a swoon for her man. And this week, the envelope came. Finally I would be able to put it all in motion: my date with John Hamm.

The envelope was empty; inside, there was only a notice that said I owed money to the Canada Customs and Revenue Agency; my love loot was not to be mine. I began to cry. Bitter tears of disappointment stained my cheeks.

It isn’t just me. There are thousands, tens of thousands of us, with no cheques — only notices. Deadbeat Dads, single mothers earning too little to pay taxes, victims of GST rebate overpayments: we have all been left out in the cold. That I keep company with a multitude is small comfort.

They said it had been clear: I thought so too. During his April budget address, Finance Minister Neil LeBlanc said “the province will provide a $155 Nova Scotia taxpayer refund to all Nova Scotians who pay provincial income taxes.”

I do pay taxes. It’s just that sometimes I’m a little late. But I’m charged interest — I have to fork that over. And now I pay from my pocket and my heart.

Back in April, my head must have been in the clouds. Cloud nine to be precise. I was dancing on air. But I just can’t forget what John told me. It’s all so clear. He was standing in a scrum of reporters in front of a row of flags at Province House. In the swirling crowd it was if we were alone, and he was speaking only to me.

I wonder if I’ve imagined it all, yet I had my good ear turned toward John when he told me to always remember three things. “First,” he said, “the cheque’s in the mail, or at least it will be in June.” And my heart leapt. “Second, my wife doesn’t understand me.” My heart leapt higher. I could learn to understand John. I knew I could.

“And third?”

Well, I don’t remember the third, but it left a bad taste in my mouth.