Happy Valentine's Day Bitches

Some things really make me want to go on a massacre. Like naming a holiday after a massacre, and then commercializing it into something that is supposedly about love and whatnot. Ok, maybe I won't go on a massacre, but it is pretty dumb.

Since today is Valentine's Day and I've been having a shitty day thanks to work, I thought I'd just take some of my free time to share with everyone what may have been the worst experience I've ever had on Valentine's Day. Also, I just want to let the record show that I am utterly, utterly alone on this day, and I will probably die alone, never to be loved by anyone. But I digress*. The name will be changed so as to protect the "valentine."

I'd been dating this girl, let's call her Carol (note: I've never dated any Carol and I don't even think I even know anyone with that name), for a couple of weeks. Mainly we would just meet up once out, and then hang out. There was never really anything serious, but Carol was pretty cool, and I thought I'd ask her to go out for Valentine's Day if she didn't have any other plans. I really didn't want to make a big deal of it, but I thought it would be a good way to get to know Carol in a more intimate setting, and maybe let her see a different, sober side of me. This can sometimes be a letdown, because I can be pretty charming when drunk, but again I digress.

So I picked up Carol and we went to eat at this nice Italian restaurant. I was dressed slightly nicer than usual, as this was a nicer place, which meant that I was wearing khakis. We get to the restaurant and there's a wait, so we head to the bar. I was thinking, what the hell, why not get a drink. So I set sail with a Captain and coke. Just one though. I was driving. Anyways, Carol decides to get a glass of red wine. We finish our drinks, and our table still isn't ready. So Carol gets another glass of wine, and I get a beer. Well, Carol doesn't have a super-high tolerance for alcohol. The hostess tells us that our table is ready, so we get up to go. I pick up my beer and go, and Carol goes to pick up her glass of wine, and she spills it all over the back of my leg. On my pants. Khaki pants. Guh. Strike 1.

So we sit down and we're eating or whatever. Obviously, I was paying, and Carol ordered this really expensive steak. On one hand, I'm thinking, awesome, she likes her meat (no double entendre intended. Ok, maybe a little) and on the other hand I'm thinking, wow, did she really have to order the most expensive thing on the menu? But, that's the risk you run when you take a girl you don't know too well out to eat and volunteer to pay. Besides, I already spent money on flowers, so I was just thinking, hell, get it out of your system now because if we start getting serious I PAY FOR NOTHING.

Anyways, we're waiting for our food, me with my stained pants, and Carol is finishing up her second drink. We're making conversation since we've never really been in anything more than just casual conversation. Well, Carol, despite being slightly drunk, is actually bringing up some really good topics for discussion. And I'm wanting to impress her, so I think of the best things to say. I open my mouth at the first break, but before I can even make a sound she starts talking again. We were seriously waiting for 30 minutes for food and I think I managed to squeeze out 3 sentences. Now, I'm all for keeping up conversation when I lag a little bit, but I like being allowed to talk. Strike 2.

Also, during that "conversation," only about 5 or maybe even 10 minutes were actually on topics that I had anything interesting to say. After I realized I wouldn't be able to say anything, I really started to judge her. And then my mind started to wander. Why does she talk so much? Is one of her eyes bigger than the other? Uhoh, she's going in for another drink. Wine isn't cheap. Is she an only child? Damn she talks a lot. Oh, she IS an only child. That makes sense. I wonder if you could quantify how much she loves the sound of her own voice. And when I actually did squeeze in a sentence, forget about getting another word in for the next 10 minutes.

So then the food came, and we ate and luckily there was no real adventure there. Aside from Carol not eating even half of the steak that she got. And she chose not to take it home. I mean, I'm not gonna re-heat steak, but she could have at least feigned that she would.

Anyways, after dinner we go back to my place so I can get a little more comfortable if you know what I mean. And by that I mean so I can change out of my wine-stained pants. So I change and then we're just sitting and watching tv for a while. I ask if she wants to watch a movie. She says she doesn't like scary movies, and she doesn't really like any of the movies I have. But she loved My Boss's Daughter! Do I have that?

Uh, how about we just watch TV instead? I'm flipping through the channels and I don't really see anything. As I'm flipping through I see a particularly funny episode of South Park about Scientology and I want to watch that. And she was like, oh, I hate South Park. I'm closed-minded and I don't really understand satire. Let's watch something that I can understand because I'm simple. What's on TLC?

Strike 3.

Well, I obliged, because I was hoping maybe we could talk more. You know, maybe I could actually tell a little bit about myself. Boy was I wrong. Carol talked about herself for about 2 more minutes, and she did the whole spiel. There was talking about ex-boyfriends. There was talk about baggage. Oh so much baggage. So, so, so much baggage. At this point I'm just thinking, ok, what is the best way that I can get her out of my apartment?

So I do what any self-respecting man would. I go to the bathroom for 25 minutes. I make a lot of loud heaving noises. I come back, looking disheveled, eyes bloodshot from heaving so much (you have to sell it if you're going to make it work), and I tell her that I'm suddenly not feeling so hot, and it has nothing to do with her at all. I ask her if I can just take her home. She's like, well, I could just stay and take care of you. I was like, no, really, I don't know if I'll sleep much tonight, so I'll take you home.

So I took her home, and I never called her back. She called me one other time, and I never returned the call. I think she may have gotten the message. She probably thought it was because I never talked, but maybe it was because SHE WOULDN'T LET ME.

I'm not bitter about it at all.

So that was the worst Valentine's Day I've ever had. Never have I felt more like I wasted an entire night. Well, that might not be true, but I've never felt like I've wasted a night with another person as much.

*Actually, I'm totally cool with being alone this year for V-Day, because I don't have to spend any money.

Questions to ask before marriage

I was reading one of the many blogs that I frequent daily at work, and I came across this interesting topic. Here is the link to the blog; I forget what the guy's name is. If only there was something to remind me...

Anyways, I thought it was really funny. So I'm going to copy his idea, except I'm just going to use my own answers, instead of the "right" and "honest" answers.

1. Have we discussed whether or not to have children, and if the answer is yes, who is to be the primary caregiver?

Uh, seriously, have we discussed it? I must have blocked it out. Or you were asking me when I was watching the Illini game and you didn't pause for my swearing outbursts. So what conclusion did we come to again? Right, you bear the kids, you take care of the kids, and we better have a hot nanny take care of them while you're at work. (I can take paternity leave, right?)

2. Do we have a clear idea of each other's financial obligations and goals, and do our ideas about spending mesh?

If you spend any more of MY money on shoes for YOU or another damn purse, I'm buying a big screen TV with YOUR shopping fund. Case closed.

3. Have we discussed our expectations for how the household will be maintained, and are we in agreement over who will manage the chores?

Shit, have we discussed this one? Here's the deal. Roomba does the vacuuming, and I'll clean him when he needs it. You clean everything else. And cook for me most of the time. And do those dishes too. (Doing also includes loading the dishwasher)

4. Have we fully disclosed our health histories, both physical and mental?

I may or may not have a problem with alcohol. I also may or may not have a problem with rage. Oh, and that rash is probably something you're not going to like the answer to if you ask about it, so you might just want to stay away from it. YOU'RE ALLERGIC TO DOGS???

5. Is my partner affectionate to the degree that I expect?

We're discussing marriage right? Then I will concede a no to the question. And I will not be happy with the concession.

6. Can we comfortably and openly discuss our sexual needs, preferences and fears?

I'm afraid that my needs to match your preferences, so you better do something about that.

7. Will there be a TV in the bedroom?

You're damn right there is. And I will have the remote. And if I want to fall asleep watching Kill Bill then you're going to have to deal with it.

8. Do we truly listen to each other and fairly consider one another's ideas and complaints?

No I don't want to talk about how I'm feeling. I'm watching the Illini. Don't you dare touch that remote. Don't do it! DON'T!! NO!!!!!

9. Have we reached a clear understanding of each other's spiritual beliefs and needs, and have we discusses when and how our children will be exposed to religious/moral education?

Damnit, I knew this was coming up. Ok, our kids will worship Ra, and they will be exposed to this at a very young age so they can get used to how much they'll be made fun of. But they'll have their revenge, oh yes, when Ra erases the world of those bastards.

10. Do we like and respect each other's friends?

I really like that one chick, what's her name, Kelly? Yeah, she's hot. But don't bring around the uggos. And, uh, when I say uggos, I mean ugly on the inside? (And outside.)

11. Do we value and respect each other's parents, and is either of us concerned about whether the parents will interfere with the relationship?

Well, your dad terrifies me. Seriously, I can see him thinking of ways to torture me whenever we talk. I'm worried he's building his own rack.

On the other hand, you probably better accept that my mom will never like you, but she will at least make an effort to be nice to your face. And I won't tell you the things she says behind your back. (But trust me, they're bad.)

12. What does my family do that annoys you?

Besides watching how much I drink and judging me? Well, I'd say that's pretty much it. You think my family hates you?? Come on, that's ridiculous. It's just my mom. And my dad. And Uncle Tom and Aunt Sally. And their kids. Really that's it though. About.

13. Are there some things that you and I are NOT prepared to give up in the marriage?

There is no way I'm getting rid of my poster of Jessica Alba. Also, don't you dare think that Xbox 360 is going anywhere. Get rid of that fucking cat though. Shit.

14. If one of us were to be offered a career opportunity in a location far from the other's family, are we prepared to move?

Am I still able to watch the Illini and the Cubs? If not, then I'm afraid you'll just have to pass on that job. I of course know that you'll move. Your job is easy!

15. Do each of us feel fully confident in the other's commitment to the marriage and believe that the bond can survive whatever challenges we may face?

Hmm, that's a tough one. I still can't really trust you, and I'm pretty positive you don't trust me, so, we'll agree to both be miserable? Deal!

I tried to mix in both some semi-honest answers and answers that were just plain ridiculous. Try and see which is which!