VD, but the good kind.

[updated to add: I remembered last night that I did actually get one kickass Valentine's present once from my beau - a solid gold rose. Verrrry Niiiice. /end poor and played Borat imitation.]

At some point today, I intended to write something about memorable Valentines, but then two things happened. Amalah's memorable valentine's post blew anything I could write out of the water, and, also, I remember that - Memorable Valentine's: I have none. Ah well.

I, like most others these day, tend to feel the cheese of V-Day is overrated. This may have much to do with the fact that A: I was almost always single on Valentine's Day. B: No one (worthwhile) has ever given me or sent me anything for Valentine's Day, and C: I never did anything romantic or squishy on valentine's before. So it could just be that I'm bitter.

At any rate, the only Valentine's I remember with any degree of clarity is the one when I was 18. I had a stalker back then. At first it was a little annoying, but then it was just pathetic and funny.

I was almost done with high school and just dipping my toes into the hardcore partying scene. I had just ended my little fling with a boy for whom I pined ever so badly, and was terribly depressed. (By "terribly depressed" I just mean "drunk.") I was comforting myself with a bottle of cheap vodka while my best friend tried to find boys to hang out with us, when her doorbell rang. It was Stalker Boy, whom we shall call Jack. Because his name was Jack. Jack was 24, unGodly handsome, successful, and really fucking weird. My friends thought I was crazy. Here was this beautiful, rich man looking to court my dumb little self, and everytime I saw him I bashed him like crazy. No one could understand why.

The reason was that Jack was just WEIRD. Something about him gave me a messed up feeling in my stomach. "Butterflies!" My friend Jackie would yell. "NAUSEA." I'd reply.

Anyway, Jack's one-sided courtship started with the occassional invitation to dinner or a movie, and by this time had escalated to expensive and uncommon gifts. A new phone, diamond jewelry, a 4-wheeler, the offer of a car, you name it, Jack wanted to or did buy it for me. I didn't accept any of these guys. At this time in my life, I was righteous - I was not for sale! By now, of course, I've wizened, and would take that shit off anyone dumb enough to give it to me. I'd still keep them at the curb, but dude, I'll take your presents, no problem.

Jack showed up and Jackie's (hee.) that night and begged to take me to the Capital Grille or something for dinner. Back then, I didn't know what the Capital Grille and did not want any of your fancy shit anyway, Mister. I am YOUNG, and RAW, and UNORTHODOX and DIFFERENT, DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? Anyway, because I was hungry I told Jack, "Fuck that. Let's go to Johnny's."

Jack was thrilled be allowed to accompany me to the drug-haven pizza shop that was Johnny's, but wouldn't let Jackie come. Despite my better judgement (which, sadly, was not present due to: DRUNK.) I agreed to go anyway. Halfway there, I decided if he wanted to date me, he needed to get me DRUNK first. And not just like, drunk, dude. DRUUUNNNNK. So go in that liquor store there and buy me alcohol.

"What kind of alcohol?"

"THe kind you drink, jackass. Go. Now. THIIIIRRSSTYYY." Christ, I was an ignorant whore.

So in Jack went, and while he was inside I got a text from Jackie. "Just heard Jack has girlfriend. You still with him?" It was right around there I decided that Ms. Nice Girl (that was as nice as I got, then) was clearly not going to cut it anymore. He came with several bottles of expensive red wine. He probably thought it was a nice treat, but back then, I didn't even have the class to PRETEND I liked red wine. I took one sip of that shit, fake gagged, and said, "What the fuck is this swill, dude?"

"$65 red wine."

"Fuck red wine. Give me $65 and I'll go in there and get REAL booze."

"Aren't you underage?"

"Wouldn't you sell me alcohol?"

"Oh, god, I'd sell you anything, baby."

"Ugh, dude, whatever, give me the money."

Jack slapped $60 into my palm, and I got out of the car with the bottle of wine still in my hand. I walked around to the side of the car and knocked on his window. He rolled it down.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Ha, I forgot! Can you hold this wine for me?" And with that, I emptied the bottle of "$65 red wine" into his lap. "Heard your girlfriend's looking for you, BABY."

The look on his face was priceless, but about 5 seconds after he tore off crying (Crying! Literally!) I realized I didn't have a ride the 7 or 8 miles back to Jackie's. Ah well. I had $65 bucks now. I called a cab and talked the kid behind the counter into selling me a bottle of vodka.

A few weeks later, I found out that Jack didn't have a girlfriend. He had a wife. And he wasn't 24, he was 32. And he had kids. Four of them.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my most memorable Valentine's Day ever. I am truly a diehard romantic.

Comments

[Renee in Seattle]

Holy shit. That was the best VD story E.V.E.R. Thank you!!

Love your writing skilz.

[superblondgirl]

Wow. Your VD memories beat mine, which are, well, nonexistent. I've always been of the "it's a commercial Hallmark holiday that I don't celebrate" school, only with a little "I wouldn't say no to flowers/cards/chocolates, though" tossed in. I always end up disappointed because I play the commerical card too well and never get shit.