The Final Valentines You'd want to Drink to Forget (3 of 3)

Oh, the love fest continues. For some, all bets are off tomorrow night. For others, the "liberal media" won't give up the pursuit of the truth behind their national guard record. I don't know know where I fit in on that spectrum...I've lived two thousand four as if all bets were off anyway. No media is following me around, either. So anyway, enjoy the third and final installment in Leftover Chinese's February Fourteenth celebration.

The Year: 2002. I was fresh out of college. Instead of merely liking girls, you actually love them...and that means good and bad things. At the age of twenty three, I had maturity, full understanding of where I stood in life, and no job. Life became a party for a few weeks in those months. Living in your college town when you don't go to school and don't have a job is a winning formula.

Anywho, this particular February Fourteenth adventure was a shot in the dark. There was this ladyfriend I was interested in. We had seen each other a few times the previous fall. In fact, I broke up with my then-current girlfriend once and for all because I wanted to see other people...namely the ladyfriend. The night before she left town for winter break we realized that there was mutual interest. From the vibe I caught, I'd call her after the break and things would be cool. Well, that wasn't the case. This chick was slow to return my calls and we saw each other only once. Well, not more than two weeks after I got back to the city, I realized that I could use February Fourteenth as a way to confirm whether she even cared.

My plan was to get a single rose and write a little note that said something to the tune of "You shouldn't go this Valentines Day without getting a rose, so allow me to do the honor. Call me sometime." I thought it would be a classy message. It's not too gushy, and subtle enough to arouse interest. That afternoon, I went to the store after a job interview and picked up a rose and a bottle of vodka (I wasn't anticipating anything). I drove over to this chick's place and knocked on the door. No answer. Okay, I'll just leave the flower at the door and go home. I was happy about that because I was flossed out in a suit at the time and it would have been too nutty a stunt if she opened a door and some guy in a suit handed her a rose. So I taped the flower to her door, got myself a cup of coffee, and went home.

The phone has yet to ring about that one. I wound up playing my guitar for most the night before taking my anger out on the pool table (I ran the bar's pool table for six games that night). My date that night became the bottle of Vodka and I think it treated me well that night.

These three episodes in my world taught me a lot. First, always leave pleasant notes when you present a flower. The note is as important as the deed itself. Second, the easiest way to see if a lady has taken a shining to you is to give her a flower. A psycho act like that gives you a clear picture of what is going on. You'll either scare her far away, or she'll come running. Third, don't break up with a girl you wind up to realize you really did love. It takes a while to get over that one...Especially when you strike out at the next at-bat. Finally, the most important thing I learned was to forget the losses and just take your chances. Failure can become a funny story a few days later. You never know what's going to happen next.

Did somebody say three-day weekend?! Thank you, dead presidents. Thank you.

. . [~] . 0 (Grumble) Grumbles .