I thought I had it all day long. Everywhere I walked on campus, the undergrad chicks were checking me out. Then I realized they were all trying to read the t-shirt I was wearing, which I had brought back from Brazil. Portuguese confuses chicks, I guess, at least long enough for them to stare at me.
If only I had better pecs.
But, let’s face it, what did I expect on Valentine’s Day? It’s practically a tradition that I don’t have a Valentine; I think I’ve had four since I turned 9. I’ve been dumped less than one month before Valentine’s day four times, dumped someone before Valentine’s once, and been unable to get a date most every other day. Not a roll of honor for me, not at all.
This is generally the part in which the blogger relates a particularly funny Valentine’s day past experience; sadly, I have none of those either. The only Valentine’s Day that comes to mind is one that followed about three weeks after the unexpected break-up of a three-year relationship. I stayed in, ate Baja Bud’s with my then-roommate, and we rented the Will Smith version of the Wild Wild West. I’d always loved that show, with the debonair James West in his tight pants and short jackets, and the sheer crapulence of the silver screen version seemed to exemplify how things were going from great to exceedingly stankeriffic as time moved, stochastically, from the past to the future. Thanks for depressing me, Barry Sonnenfeld. Even Salma Hayek couldn’t save that one. Also, I had gotten a burrito because I wanted to be healthy but I had really wanted the quesadilla. I skipped the end of the movie and of my dinner and went to bed early.
So, yeah, I’m not a fan of Valentine’s day. Let’s not put a lot of pressure on relationships to work on that one perfect day. But I was a fan of Tuesday the 14th this year, because I got a lot of important things done, and I have a good feeling about Wednesday the 15th too. So who needs that one, Damocles-esque day? I’ll just try to be nice to my sweetie (when I get one) every day, and take care of my business every day too. ‘Cause that’s the American Way, baby. Well, that and shooting your hunting partners in the face.