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Reflections on Valentine's Day

I've always loved Valentine's Day, despite the fact that I've never had anyone with which to share it. Yes, it's true: although I've had dates a-plenty and even a boyfriend to speak of from time to time, I've never been with anyone on Valentine's Day. But I shun the complaints that it is merely a commercial holiday invented by Hallmark blah blah blah... the commercialization of St. Valentine's life is no different from the treatment of Jesus' birth and death at Christmas and Easter, and many other similar holidays that boast themed chocolates and tokens of affection to bestow upon loved ones. Valentine's Day receives a bad reputation simply because people like to feel sorry for themselves and being lonely on February 14 provides adequate means to do so, wallowing in one's own self-misery.

I like Valentine's Day because, yes, we should ensure those near and dear to us know they are loved every single day, but sometimes that becomes eclipsed by other aspects of life, such as work, family, personal crises, etc. Valentine's Day reminds us why we have committed our lives to someone, if we have thus chosen to renounce all others and spend our lives with another human. And despite my lack of Valentine dates, I think this is important. Christians do not say, "Why celebrate Christmas? Shouldn't we love Christ and honor and remember his birth every day?" And if you have made the decision to be a follow of Christ, I assume you should. People do not say, "Why celebrate Mother's Day? Shouldn't we love our mother and honor and remember her every day?" And if you have a wonderful mother then yes, I assume you should. That does not mean those holidays should go ignored. The celebrations make people feel good and, dammit, they're fun.

Fun. I LOVED Valentine's Day parties in elementary school, getting my creativity on by crafting those little valentine mailboxes from paper, paste and heart-shaped stickers (and, one year that I was feeling especially crafty, a cardboard detergent box). I chose the valentines I would send my class from a catalog, my mom ordered them for me weeks in advance, and when they arrived I could hardly wait to select the perfect valentine to go to each classmate and inscribe them all with personal messages. Valentine's Day parties were the best in school and I always went home feeling appreciated (and full of red velvet cupcakes). Even in fifth grade when I sent my crush a Bananas in Pajamas valentine on which I had scrawled "I love you" and his to me said, "You are a cute and funny girl" I was elated. Did it matter that he did not love me? No! He thought I was a cute and funny girl! (And I AM! I am damn cute and funny to boot)!

In seventh grade, however, I dumped my boyfriend of three days on Valentine's Day. I knew it was wrong of me, but the "relationship" just didn't feel right and I thought it would be unfair to string him along any longer. I think he took it pretty well, considering he gave the teddy bear he had bought me to my friend Kristin and asked her out instead. They remained together for a number of years.

This Valentine's Day is the first one in which I'm a little disappointed to be spending it alone. For though I am dating someone, we decided not to make plans for tonight due to various conflicts. So, though no bouquet of flowers or candlelit dinner is in my future for this evening, I plan to take Ben & Jerry on a hot date to the movies, and they are better dates than most.

OK Cupid Hall of Shame Part #3

I disabled my OK Cupid profile today for a number of reasons.  Mostly, I'm tired of the annoying emails and less than stellar "matches."  But also, those little internet algorithms actually succeeded in finding me someone whose presence I enjoy so instead of continuing my search, I'm content for the moment to sit back and see what happens... but as I don't write about men I'm currently dating, that's all you're getting for now.  To mark this momentous occasion, let's take a look at some awesome messages I have received recently from OK Cupid's Most Ineligible Bachelors.

You definitely look hot, but unfortunately I only date black girls.
...That works out pretty well for us because I tend not to date pricks.

Why don't you like dogs? Seriously?
...Nowhere on my profile did I state that I don't like dogs (but to be fair, I do prefer cats).  

I am a 31/m from NJ. I am a paid/ volunteer firefighter/emt. I am currently pursuing a career in law enforcement as well. I am a very atletic person. It's nice to meet you! What is your name? I am interested in getting to know you better as well. I have three tattoos as well. love kids as well! i ALSO ENJOY SHOPPING! I ALSO LIKE NYC. I ALSO ENJOY MUSIC! I ALSO LIKE TRAVELING AND ROMANCE! I am a good heart guy that is genuine and knows how to treat a lady. WOULD YOU LIKE TO EXCHANGE PHONE NUMBERS AND CHAT ON THE PHONE!
...NO THANK YOU!  WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?

Sounds like you have nothing to lose by accepting a date with me.
...With all due respect, I think I have a lot to lose.  Here is a short list of things that I regret losing on dates: My temper, my self-respect, $60, a contact lens and my virginity.

Can I Get Your Number Baby? Hit Me With The Seven Digits!

I've never been shy when it comes to giving my phone number to a man and making it clear that I'm interested, a character trait that is in direct conflict with the fact that I'm pretty much terrified of men. Especially ones I like. If you've read any previous blog entries, it should be fairly obvious why, though men make me giddy and giggly, they also set me a bit on edge. There's no telling what these strange, erratic creatures are going to do next. But that hasn't stopped me from putting myself out there from time to time. I'm pretty sure the first time I slipped a guy my number was when I dropped my digits into Jeff's tip jar (See: "Don't Go Around Breaking Young Girls' Hearts;" posted July 21, 2010), a move that I still argue was totally suave even though it didn't score me any dates.

There were a number of guys in college that I asked out, though I really don't remember if there was specific phone number distribution going on. One of these instances totally backfired for me because not only did Jim not take me up on my offer, but apparently dudes talk to each other in the football locker room. I was embarrassingly whistled at and catcalled every time I walked by the football table in the cafeteria for months, and I can assure you it was not in response to my extra-baggy hoodie emblazoned with our school's name.


I very clearly remember the first time a guy gave me his phone number and asked for mine in return. Alex and I met at a bar and realized we had a mutual friend, so when he scrawled his number on a napkin, I wasn't sure if his advances were strictly platonic or if they carried romantic undertones. I left the bar and he called me within the hour, so I decided he was probably into me... a hypothesis that was not supported when he took me out for coffee the next night and didn't even pay for my $1.10 cappucino at Dunkin Donuts. I don't think we ever spoke after that (well, until he came to pick up his tax returns when I was working in an H&R Block office two years later in a completely different city, but he definitely didn't remember me or recognize my name).

Then there was Steve, who cleaned the rugs at the bar and grill I hostessed at. Every Friday afternoon at 3:00 he'd come pick up our rugs, load them in his truck and replace them with clean ones. He always greeted me with a winning smile and he had totally gorgeous blue eyes that I couldn't stop staring at... but how to ask out this beautiful carpet-cleaning creature without attracting the attention of the entire waitstaff and restaurant patrons? Apparently the H&R Block office I was also working at was intent on providing me with opportunities to meet men or rekindle old flames, because Steve walked in one night to have his taxes prepared. He recognized me from the restaurant, we chatted and on the way out I slipped him my number. He never called, which made for some awkward Fridays, but I soon moved to a new state anyway.

There have been a handful of waiters who have been the lucky recipients of my number, too. In June, one such waiter became the first man to actually call me after receiving a scrap of paper with my number jotted on it. Ryan texted me within a half hour of receiving my digits: "I'm beyond flattered that a girl as goodlooking as yourself would give me her number. What should be do about this mutual attraction?" He then immediately asked me out for the coming weekend. He was a very attentive texter, giving me every indication that he was looking forward to going out. We met up late Saturday night and simply walked around his neighborhood, ending up in a park talking for two hours, leaving only when the park closed and city authorities kicked us out. I got on the train and before I even reached my apartment an hour later, I had a text from Ryan: "Get home safely! I enjoyed the conversation and look forward to doing it again." He asked me for a second date a few days later and we made weekend lunch plans.

The day of said second date, Ryan texted me to say his roommate totalled his truck and though unhurt, he was going to help him out, ending with, "Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" Such a noble cause to cancel a date! I told him I was disappointed because I looked totally cute, but of course he was forgiven. He replied with, "I know, you always look fantastic! Thanks for understanding. I'll call soon."

Ryan never called. Did the roommate really total his truck or was it an excuse to get out of a date he didn't want to go on? I think it was true. He sure acted like he really wanted to go out again and if he didn't, why not just ignore me sooner? I think it's more likely that he let "too much time go by," a common theme I have recently observed. I've had a number of guys not call me back, only to tell me when I run into them weeks or months later, "I really did want to go out with you. But I forgot to call when I said I would and then I let too much time go by." I believe 100% that this is what they are truly thinking and not just a convenient excuse (I've done my research), but what a crock of shit. Maybe I'm in the minority of ladies, but I'd rather have a guy eventually call if I was looking forward to hearing from him than never hear from him at all. At any rate, Ryan was the last time I distributed my phone number to a near-stranger. I should probably count it as a near-success and quit while I'm on top.

Turns out I can't even BUY myself a boyfriend

In May 2009 I ventured to the Canal Room to see one of my very favorite singer/songwriters perform. I wasn't familiar with the act opening for him, but enjoyed her performance as much as the man I'd come to see. Rose was backed by four gentlemen: a keyboardist, a guitarist, a drummer and an upright bassist. When Rose introduced her band at the end of her set, she announced that 3/4 of the men were single (sorry ladies, the keyboardist had a girlfriend!) and she'd auction them off to the highest bidder if we approached her with an offer. I was so pleased! I'd had my eye on Phil, the string bassist, for the past hour. Tall, dark, handsome, sophisticated, and could he move those fingers! Watching him play was poetry in motion. However, I couldn't tell whether Rose was joking about the auction or not... either option seemed equally plausible to me.


I found Rose mingling with the crowd between sets and told her how much I had loved her music, admitting that I had never heard of her before but was now a fan... "and by the way, I'll give you five dollars for Phil." Rose looked absolutely delighted. She said she'd attempted the auction at every stop on their tour and I was the first person to take her up on it. She began searching the crowd for Phil, but he was nowhere to be seen. That was just fine with me, as I hadn't expected her to grab him immediately and declare he'd been sold (and that the highest bid was a mere five bucks)! She then told me to meet her at her merch table at the end of the night.

Before heading out after the last band, I made my way to Rose's merch table as promised. There was a line, but when she looked up and I caught her eye, she beckoned me to the front. She dialed her phone and simply said, "hey Phil, she's here" then hang up and said to me, "he'll be over in a minute." And in less than sixty seconds, there he was. Rose continued to ignore her waiting fans to introduce me to Phil, and then we talked for ten minutes or so. I apologized for only bidding five dollars, but said I hoped he could understand the life of a starving artist. He laughed and asked me about me: What part of the city did I live in? How often did I go to shows? What did I do for a living? He was adorable and sweet and took my number, putting it directly into his phone and asking for a precise spelling of my first and last name for accuracy. He said he was honored I had bid on him and that we definitely had to get together for a drink.

Of course he never called. And it was such a fun experience that I almost don't mind, and yet I do. Wouldn't that be the best "How I Met Your Mother" Story to tell the kids? "I was auctioned off at a concert and she bought me for five dollars." I've seen Rose perform a couple of times since then, but she now has a new string bassist. And I now have my eye on the drummer...

Lessons Learned From An Eight Year-old's Broken Heart

I’ve been on a series of good dates recently with several gentlemen (two of whom actually paid, which I have found to be a rare thing these days and -- call me old-fashioned -- I think the man should do on a first date).  But, not to fear, for regardless of  the recent evidence that there just may be some decent men left in the world (whether or not they are my perfect match, they’re at least out there), this blog is not doomed, for I was having my heart broken long before I knew the first thing about the birds and the bees.  So sit back, relax and enjoy the tale of my very first broken heart.

His name was Charlie.  And for a few fleeting days I was the envy of 40 eight year-old girls because Charlie was mine.  He was my boyfriend for two or three days when we decided the next logical step was to get married.  This was something I took extremely seriously, perhaps far more seriously than I will someday take my real wedding.  Charlie asked his friend Andrew to be the Best Man and I asked my best friend Elisha to be my Maid of Honor.  The ceremony was set for the following day at recess, by the swing set.

I remember rushing home after school to tell my mom the good news.  She was, of course, quite ecstatic for me and made sure my favorite dress was washed and ready to serve as my wedding gown in the morning.  She even french-braided my hair, something we rarely took the time to do before school.  Only for very special occasions, to be sure.

When I got to school I approached Charlie, batting my eyes and twirling in my dress to ask if he was ready for our big day.  Charlie responded that he had changed his mind about marrying me and that Dana was now his girlfriend.  I turned and walked away, devastated.  I still think of that moment every time I think of complete heartbreak.  Charlie moved away a few years later and I never saw him again.  However, with the recent advantages of Facebook I found him recently -- he shares a Facebook page with his girlfriend.  Why don’t you twist the knife a little deeper, Charlie?  Though in Charlie’s defense I must say that he taught some very valuable lessons: Never get married on a day’s notice, or to someone you’ve been dating for three days.  

Dear Diary 1994: He loves me, he loves me not. I love him, I love him not.

A series of diary entries from last week and this coming week, 1994.  You’re welcome.

Nov. 14, 1994: NATHAN KINDA LIKES ME!  Amanda is going to take me skating on Friday.  Nathan’s going, too.  He said that he will couple-skate with Amanda first, then Kristin, then me.  Should I say yes?  Maybe - Maybe not.  See ya!

Nov. 17, 1994: Nathan doesn’t like me.  I don’t like him much either.  He’s only couple-skating with Mandy.  He doesn’t like Kristin much anymore either.  I’m starting to get a crush on Jason.  He was a new boy last year.  He’s really funny and sorta cute.  He’s number 6 on my Top 5 List of Guys.  Got to go!  See ya!

Nov. 18, 1994: I changed by mind about not liking Nate.  I LOVE him.  Tonight he asked Amanda to couple-skate and she said “no” because she can’t skate good.  Then he asked me and I said “yes.”  So we did.  Half-way through the couple-skate Nathan said “God, how many times do we have to go around this thing?”  One of my friends was skating around the middle of the rink clapping at Nate and I when we went by.  When Mandy and I left she said, “Bye, Nathan.  I love you” and Nathan said, “Bye, Mandy.  I love you, too.”  When we were at the rink I wanted to tell Nathan I loved him.  I just couldn’t, though.  So I said, “Nathan, I really really like…” I was so embarrassed I skated away before I could say “you.”  I told Amanda that I was never going to wash the hand Nathan was holding to skate.  Amanda told him and he made a weird face.  I said I was sorry and he said, “That’s okay, I like when people talk about me like that.  It makes me feel good.”  I LOVE NATHAN!

Nov.  26, 1994: Amanda called me today.  Yes, she couple-skated with Nate last night, but I don’t care.  There is an all-day skate on Monday.  Nate told Mandy to bring me.  That made my day.  If I forgot to mention, he KINDA likes me again.  Just KINDA.  Oh, at our pizza party on Friday at school, Jason didn’t want his soda.  He asked who wanted it.  He gave it to me!  How romantic!  (Not?)

Nov. 28, 1994: Nate doesn’t just KINDA like me.  He loves me.  Today he dumped Amanda for me.  Then he started to like her again.  So now he’s two-timing us.  This may sound pretty strange, but we don’t care just as long as he still likes us.  Nate and I have this thing that every time we see each other we say, “Hey Baby.”  Mandy dared me to mouth “I love you” to Nate.  He said something like, “Don’t be embarrassed, I love you, too.”  I was so grateful.  He says he likes Amanda better, but I don’t care.  Just as long as he likes me.  I MISS NATE SO MUCH!  We’ve only been apart about seven hours.