the Valentines Day post.

-note to fellow coffee patron: When I’m in line, and there’s limited comfy couch seating and I go put my laptop bag down on a couch, that usually means I am reserving that spot. So when I come over after I order, and you just sat down there, RIGHT NEXT TO MY BAG, I will look at you like you're an a-hole. And yes, I WOULD like you move. And YES, you did see that my bag was reserving that seat, as you made a comment to your friend. So, no, no, don’t mind me. I’ll just go sit in the uncomfortable chair by the window with a crack in it that’s letting the freezing cold air in. Thanks.
-and another note to the other coffee patron: I love dogs and all, but think it’s kind of rude for you to let your 40 lb. fluff ball sit with you on the couch. And lick the pillows. No, I’ll never sit there again because people like you don’t realize that this isn’t your house. You’re in public. And people in public don’t like it when your favorite little beast takes over couches in the local coffee shop.
It’s a good thing Johnny Cash is singing about the long-black veil and his ring of fire to calm me down before I rip these people a new one.
So, as you gathered, I’m sitting here at my favorite local-non corporate coffee shop. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all bout the corporate giant coffee houses, too! I just had a hankerin for a Smore’s mocha. Mmm…yes, it’s Valentines Day. That day to indulge on sweet things and your loved ones. A day to stare into your lovers eyes, and swoon over sweet nothings. So I’m sitting here, staring into my…laptop. And the other uncomfortable chair sitting across from me. Empty. Why? Why aren’t I with my shnookums, my honeybear, my whatever sappy name that makes you sick? He’s camping. A “man trip” in the woods. Actually, in the snow. Make that, snowstorm. By choice….Ah, love. However; lest you think I am bummed by being alone and bored on Valentines Day, think again. This is normal for me. Given my track record of never having a real date on the infamous V-day.
Yes, I’m married. And yes, I’m 27. I have never had a valentine on Valentine’s day. Woe is me, right? But it’s kinda funny when I think about it, and it really didn’t hit me until recently. Let me take you back into my history, of all the great V-day celebrations I’ve had in the past:
1999-the first year I actually would have qualified for a “real” valentine’s day. I was “dating” Thomas. I say “dating” in “quotes” because it was really nothing more glorified than drinking crappy beer while underage, so he could get me drunk and we could make out and stuff. He was 21, I was naïve and 17. He had deep brown eyes, and a wicked combination of a Napolean and anger complex. Our eyes met when he moved a cone for my best friend to park at the local block party in her neighborhood. We only continued to hang out because said best friend was the object of his best friends affection. But whatever; I was enamored by my first real, umm…fling. I guess. That first Valentine’s day he actually did bring me a rose, probably only because it reflected well on his BFF trying to score with my BFF, and we all drove up to Fish Ranch Road where he smoked out and I pretended I was trying to quit the stuff when in all reality the stuff scared me shitless because I was a sheltered private school kid. Ah, young love. We stopped hanging out about a week later.
2000-My first year of college in San Diego. I don’t even remember what I did that year. That pretty sums up my dating life that year.
2001-My first Valentine’s day with R. We met months earlier, and since the day I met him, every day had felt like Valentine’s Day. But more about that later. This particular V-day, the US Air Force decided they’d rather spend it with him. He was in boot camp. BOOO. I spent the evening with single girlfriends from work, where we dined at the infamous date place The Cheesecake Factory. They snuck me sips of their cocktails while we made fun of all the sappy couples and the “originality” date idea. But I was secretly jealous of them all.
2002-I guess R put out well that last V-day, because the USAF had a date with him again, this time in Germany. Scheisse.
2003-This time, I was in Germany, single. On this v-day, I was in Berlin for the weekend, on a field trip with my CSUIP group. I was 21, and played drunken spin-the-bottle and had the time of my life.
2004-still single, back in San Diego. No date, I don’t even remember what I did as most of my friends had SO’s.
2005-kinda single, still in San Diego. But no date, just another day.
2006- R had just in come back into my life, and in a few days , we were to see each other for the first time in over 3 years. I was beyond freaking out and completely nervous. I was very single this Valentines Day, but not for long.
2007-Freshly engaged to R. Ha ha…kinda left out a lot of details there, didn’t I? (Awkward laugh. I really do owe you the novel of what is our relationship. Someday.) But since we were freshly engaged, we were saving for a wedding, I had strict orders for us not to do anything. We did the flower/present thing, and me, the ever so practical one, got him a gift card. To the Mens Warehouse. For his tux. Nothing say I love You like a gift card for a mokey suit. We sat at home that night…and probably watched crappy reality TV.
2008-Freshly married, and still broke. So, no plans for V-day.
2009-Here I am, by myself. Nothing new, as you can see. In fact, I’d feel weird if I did have plans for V-day. So, I should be totally pissed that R ditched me for his love of the trees, right? Not really. What bugs me the most is this past week, everyone has asked
“So, what are you doing for Valentine’s Day?”
“Oh, R is ditching me and going camping, so I don’t know? Just hang out I guess!” I say.
“WHA?? He’s going CAMPING? ON VALENTINES DAY WEEKEND?? THE HORROR! WHAT AN A-HOLE!!!!!!!!!!!! OH, he SOOOO owes you!” they say.
Really though? It doesn’t bother me, get over it. He’s doing something he loves, and Presidents Day happens to fall on the same weekend as the dreaded v-day. It wasn’t even a question. It was more like a “I’m going camping the 14th-17th.” Ok. When I tried to give him a guilt trip that he was abandoning me, it didn’t really work, because as you can see, we’re not v-day people. And yes, he’s going with his one buddy, which gives me dad plenty of room to make Brokeback Mountain jokes. Oh, dad. So I’m OK with it, and actually looked forward to my weekend where I didn’t have to worry about shaving, or my hair or well..wait, I don’t really worry about that too much these days anyways. (Sorry babe! I try, but sometimes it’s a lot of work being a girl!) He was (at one point, ahem Mister!) Mr. Romantic, and still manages to come through. He gave me a sweet card and my favorite candy that he snuck into my purse before he left, so he mad my day and I'm glad he's having a well deserved weekend in the mountains. No need to be bitter!
That is until he took my car.
You see, we’re the “crazy Southern Californians” who bought an all-wheel drive (and quite gas friendly!) mini SUV even though we live about 15 minutes from the beach. For the 3 times a year we go to the snow, and the other 3 times we go camping it’s worth every penny. So, naturally, R wanted to take “my” car to the snowy mountains. Seems like no big deal-I’d just drive his car. One problem. He has a stick, and uh, I don’t do sticks. Being the genius that he was, he thought “Oh, I’ll just teach her to drive it! It’s easy-even an idiot can drive stick.” Wrong. The last time we had our “lesson”, it ended with us in the Albertson’s parking lot, with me in tears and ordering to switch sides in the middle of the aisle way. It wasn’t a pretty scene and I will.never.drive.stick.again.
So, our generous roommate offered up his car to me. So nice, right? And it was, except that his car is a well…beater. I should have known when R quietly cornered me the night before he left and said “Pssst. I snuck the roadside assistance card in your wallet in case you need it”. Um, why would I need it, sweet honeybear?
Maybe its because the side mirror broke off and when water gets in the crack, it gets into the fuses and blows out said fuses and the lights either don’t turn on or don’t turn off. and it’s suppose to rain all weekend.
Or maybe it’s because sometimes the dash just goes out. As in, I’m driving and all of the sudden the speedometer and gas tank measuring thingy gage goes back to zero. And I’m clearly driving…as fast as the next car, and not zero.
Or maybe it’s because when I turn on the car, it’s like playin the slots as to which service lights will come on...
“Come on oil light, come on oil light. Oh, TRAC button. Never seen you before! Did I win?”
Oh, and don’t forget you have to turn on the brights to for BOTH the headlights to work.
Or maybe it’s because the car sounds like it’s about to fall apart at any minute and people walking by tend to stare at me with worry.
And the car only had 65k miles on it, and is only 10 years old. And you wonder why the American car manufactures are going down the drain.
OH…he owes me now. He so owes me.
Wine tasting trip to Napa, anyone? Heck, at this rate, we’ll be wine tasting in the Bordeaux.
So, Happy Valentine’s Day, especially to those sitting along in the coffee shops like yours truly. In the uncomfortable chairs.