It won’t be long before another Valentine’s Day rolls around but I have no intention of doing a damn thing about it. If you knew Ann I’d tell you to ask her about the last Valentine’s Day gift she got from me.
Unless she has gotten hit in the head and lost that famous memory of hers she will tell you that she never received a thing for the day. I don’t like it and I don’t believe in it. I refuse to let someone tell me when I should be romantic and loving. It irks me to see how the greeting card companies have co-opted this day and created issues that shouldn’t exist.
Some people refer to it as International Steak and Blow Job day. Truth be told that is something that I can get behind. I suspect that most men are fond of having a great meal that is followed by some good bedroom activities. But I can tell you from experience that the difference between a good blow job and a bad one often lies in whether she really wants to do it.
When she doesn’t want to do it you risk having a very poor experience and well, let’s be honest this is not a good area to be disappointed in. In fact if you asked me to list the top five things that I don’t want to be disappointed about I would list food and sex as numbers one and two. Depending on the moment I might reverse the order there, but you get the point.
Anyhoo, I never felt guilt about not doing anything for Valentine’s Day for Ann because I don’t think a day went by in which I didn’t say I love you or she to me. We said constantly and often. That might sound like a contradiction to you but she’d get it.
I suppose that one of the things that I have realized over the years is that I never took her for granted. She made me feel loved, warm and wonderful and I did the same for her. We were special.
And now with the day approaching I concede that I wonder if she is going to do anything for it and if so, with who. Remind me to call Sheri and thank her for making me feel like an idiot. I went from a place where I wasn’t bothered by the idea of her being with someone else to wanting to cut off his little buddy. Ok, I don’t really want to cut it off but I don’t there to be any shot of it ending up anywhere other than inside his pants.
Just writing that makes me feel like a kid in high school except I am not. I am a grown man who is acting like an idiot about a woman who might not have any interest whatsoever in him.
Yes, I know that she has been reading my column and has read my books. Yes I know that the girls swear that this means there is something more to this than curiosity. Yes, I know that I can’t find out without contacting her but there is a part of me that is holding back because sometimes you need to let sleeping dogs lie.
What if she has no interest. What if I am nothing more than a fond memory of what was. All I will have done is torn off a scab and poured Tabasco sauce on it. Wouldn’t it be easier to just hit myself in the head with a baseball bat.
And let’s not forget that we are talking about a modern woman. She could reach out to me. She could call or write. Why do I have to be first. Does it matter that she once told me that she will never say I love you first.
Don’t bother answering that because the answer is yet it matters. I am sure that she has changed and that the woman I knew isn’t quite the same but something tells me that hasn’t changed. Something tells me that she’ll expect me to take a traditional role here.
Got to be honest there is a part of me that wants to call her and suggest that we agree to sleep together for Valentine’s Day. Wouldn’t it take all the pressure off of us. We wouldn’t have to do the whole song and dance where neither one of us knows for certain if it is going to happen. We could just skip that silly little mating ritual.
It would probably surprise her. Women like surprises. That might help me. Or she might just tell me to go to hell in which case I have worked myself up for nothing. It is moments like this that I wish I were gay. I understand men. We are logical, rational and reasonable.
Women are just nuts.