Monday, February 15, 2010


I've never been fond of Valentine's Day.

The pressure (the pressure!) to be romantic, in love, nice, just sets couples up for disaster.

(Meaning, I usually overreact about something which ruins everything.)

(I take full responsibility.)

It never turns out like it's supposed to.

(The same goes for anniversaries and birthdays or any other "special occasion".)

Inevitably, someone will say something that causes their other half to role his or her eyes, to grit his or her teeth in frustration, to scream something regrettable.

The dishes will sit dirty. The trash won't be taken out. Something will go wrong.

Something starts the fight.

(And no, it's not because of PMS.)

(At least not completely.)

This year we made plans to go to dinner and then dancing Saturday night, and then for a massage on Sunday.

Lofty plans for someone who doesn't like Valentine's Day.

But, alas, I got sick, so Saturday was spent watching a crappy movie and ordering Chinese food, the nasal spray never far away.

(By the way, can you overdose on nasal spray?)

(I refuse to Google it because I know it's going to say "yes, you can overdose on nasal spray AND you're going to die".)

And the massage was postponed because nothing is less relaxing than dripping snot everywhere while lying naked and face-down on a massage table.

But with all of the canceled plans went all of the pressure. We just had a weekend together.

We saw the perfect romantic movie for Valentine's Day: Sherlock Holmes.

(The sexual tension between Jude Law and Robert Downey, Jr. was palpable.)

(There better be a make out session in the sequel.)

To be "valentines-y" we brought a heart-shaped box of chocolates into the movie theater.

(Eating a box of chocolates in a dark theater forces you to eat what you get rather than scouring that little chocolate treasure map under the lid that tells you exactly where the caramels are and how to avoid that weird coconut creme crap. This can either be exciting or stressful, depending on your various neuroses... and food allergies.)

(Also? If you bring a box of chocolates into a dark and quiet theater, maybe open it in the car beforehand because the amount of wrapping and ripping and noise involved in getting to said caramels and weird coconut creme crap is just astounding.)

(Especially since you're trying to be all covert and shit about smuggling Valentine's Day themed candy into the theater.)

Finally, we went to a crowded coffee shop where we drank tea and did the most romantic thing ever:

Mike taught me math.

(It was hot.)

And nobody fought over the dishes or the trash.

And it was good...

(AND I know how to do logarithms.)


What did you do? What didn't you do?
Do you know what log10 of 10 is?
Because I totally do.

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