Valentine's Day

Every guy has one. He has personalized the experience and relates it like a World War II veteran discusses his role in Normandy. Every girl is aware of his particular brand of bullshit, and generally accepts that men loathe the day. For 364 days a year a boy will do his best to build a certain rapport with his girl, remembering birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, and that insignificant detail of her life that was so special at the time. No matter what happens, her image of him is destroyed on this particular day, because short of offering her the world she can never be happy. Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

We had just been dating, and she had duped me into thinking she wasn't just like every other girl. She presented herself as a tomboy, who was very low-maintenance and interested in drinking beer, watching sports and stoner movies, and reveled in poking fun at my friends along with me. I had let my guard down because I was comfortable.

The night before, we had gone out with my friends, as I was on a mission to drink my weight in lite beer. I woke up the next morning and stumbled into the bathroom to excrete said beer for what seemed like an eternity, and on my way back into my shared room I noticed all of these roses in our common area. I guess it must have been a roommate's girlfriend's birthday. I thought nothing of it and tried to think of a clever way to get back into the XL twin that we shared without disturbing her.

We finally came to before noon and I was ready to prepare french toast for us while she sat and waited to be served. I asked how many slices of french toast she'd like, and she just smiled. She sat in silence, just smiling for the amount of time that it takes someone to take a Twix break. She smiled because she knew I had forgotten. She smiled as if to say: you asshole. You actually believed me when I told you I didn't want anything for Valentine's Day. I really can't believe you. It then dawned on me, that this particular day was heart day, and I just told her that I'd gotten her a rose but wanted to give it to her after breakfast. She knew I had forgotten but allowed me to dig myself in deeper and deeper. I had my roommate occupy her while I ran down to the campus grocery store, Wollaston's, across from my apartment. They had one rose left by that time, and it looked half dead. I presented it to her, clearly winded from the little errand and she just shook her head in disgust as she tried to revive the ill rose in a plastic cup of water [clearly symbolic].

Two years later, around a similar time in February: I had shifted my priorities and stopped worrying about the other 364 days of the year because I learned that this was really the only day that mattered. I could essentially make good on our relationship if Valentine's Day was done properly. I burned this particular day into my mind, setting outlook reminders a month in advance to make reservations at some mediocre restaurant. The day finally arrived and I remembered the flowers, took her to Dolce Vita in the North End, and tried not to act like myself for a change. I had actually planned and thought of someone other than myself for once, and it went unnoticed. She expected it, after all it was Valentine's Day and I was doing what I should have been doing. So why bother trying?

Summary: If you're a guy you CANNOT win. Let me repeat that statement - you CANNOT win. At the very least you better remember the day and present flowers and/or chocolate.

Allow me to translate: She says, "I really don't care about Valentine's Day." She is really screaming, hoping to reach your beer addled brain, "ZOMFG! this is the most important day of the year. If you ever want to have access to my vajay-jay you better not make me miserably depressed on this day, you worthless excuse for cock and balls."