For someone who is not exactly chock-full of romantic sentiment (motto: STFU with that love crap already), I’ve had a pretty good Valentine’s Day, beginning with the day before. Since VD fell on a Monday, and who wants to go out on Monday, I told Tigger her babysitting services would be needed on Sunday night so her dad and I could go out.
Problem: Tig likes a Boy.
“What? What if I want to do something with Boy?”
“C’est la vie,” I said, rather unromantically unimpressed by the demands of young love.
“That’s not fair! You’ve been married for like a gazillion years. You don’t need to celebrate.”
Oh, child, if only you knew how much more people who have been married a gazillion years need to celebrate.
We compromised. I chauffeured the young people to the thee-ay-ter at matinee hour, where they enjoyed The Green Hornet or The Blue Wasp or some damn movie, followed by a stroll about the mall.
Young love satisfied, TGeek and I prepared for our own romantic expedition.
Problem: Since we waited until the morning of Feb. 13 to make a dinner reservation for the evening of Feb. 13, our choices were limited to any variety of cheap American food or any variety of cheap Asian food.
Since eating at KFC on the day before Valentine’s Day when it is standing in for Valentine’s Day would be just plain wrong, we opted for pho. Luckily, pho is one of my very most favorite foods, and the absence of a pricey, hoity-toitier-than thou restaurant freed me from all that romance crap (see motto, above). Thus, I happily ate my noodle soup and then we repaired to the local dive bar for an after-dinner drink.
We pretty much had the place to ourselves, since everyone else was out at the hoity toity restaurants. Someone had thoughtfully visited the party store and festooned the place with paper and mylar hearts. A jazz band grooved on the little stage, and the party of eight in the far corner whooped and hooted, perhaps trying to whip up some excitement from the other four people, including us, in the bar. We drank cocktails made with cheap booze and chatted with the bartender, Dan. Dan suggested some concoction to my husband that I knew he wouldn’t like, but he got one anyway, even though he must have known he wouldn’t like it. He didn’t like it. Why did he get it? He’s just wild and crazy that way.
If you’ve lost interest in this story, so had we. We got home at 9:30 and then stayed up too late watching an odd little movie called The Red Violin, in which a musical instrument contains a woman’s soul, or something like that.
So now it is Real Valentine’s Day and unlike some of my fellow moms, I totally dodged VD responsibilities at school. (I told you I had a good day.) This year, Little Bit’s class gave each other compliments instead of buying boxes of Lady Gaga valentines and scrawling their signatures insincerely on one for every class member. LB came home with a big red paper heart, on which all of her classmates had written (sincere!) compliments. My personal favorite: “I heart your multiplying skills!”
Tig had a good day, too, because she likes Boy and Boy likes her, and in middle school, it is extremely helpful, socially speaking, to like and be liked on Valentine’s Day.
In the afternoon we gave each other candy and valentines and stuff. I made tuna melts for dinner and considered cutting them into heart shapes but didn’t, because jesus, who would do that? Now I’m in a coffee shop, blogging, while the girls are at karate, hopefully kicking someone’s ass in a respectful manner.
Later, TGeek and I will drink wine and eat chocolate and watch another movie and maybe it will be kind of romantic, I guess. Whatever. STFU with that love crap.