Wednesday, February 19, 2003

My personal vote for worst Valentine's Day ever would be for February 14th, 1987. In that week, I broke up with my girlfriend but still had to debate and perform a duet acting piece with her, as well as a number of other school functions. Then my grandmother died. Of course, in the years since, I've heard plenty of horror stories that top mine, but I still put 1987 at the top of my list because, well, it happened to me.

1987 was the worst, but they pretty much all sucked until 1993. Carrie and I started dating on the Feb. 5th, so we were drunk with new love on that particular Valentine's. Eight more good V-Day's followed, then we split up. Last year was my first Valentine's Day as a single man in 9 years, so, naturally, I spent it getting drunk.

This year I decided that it'd been a while since I'd played this game, so why not flex my romantic muscles a bit? The gift was nothing much, just something I thought she ought to have (and aren't functional Valentine's gifts taboo?), but I did very well on the card (blank, of course, with a bit of verse by yours truly), and arranged for a wonderful dinner (I considered cooking, but laziness won out). She blew my mind, getting me a selection of bronze Roman rings in a puzzle box. It was exactly the kind of present I've always hoped to get: The kind I didn't know I wanted.

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