What's he on about now?

In case the articles, essays and opinions throughtout this site just weren't enough for you, here's my online diary (a.k.a. 'blog'). It's as close as you'll come to the inside of my head, so don't say I didn't warn you
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   Monday, February 16, 2004

FEBRUARY 14th AIN'T NUTHIN' BUT A CALENDAR DATE

I really hate Valentine's Day since it makes everyone miserable. If you're single, all that hearts-and-flowers crap makes you feel lonelier than ever; if you're in a couple, the pressure to find some fancy way to "celebrate your love" (as one poster in the mall read) can be a major irritant.

Nevertheless, this Valentine's Day found me coupled -- with someone new, no less; someone I was trying to impress anyway. The trick is to keep your goals simple. I made reservations at a very nice but moderately priced little restaurant in my neighbourhood -- nothing too extravagant but still nicer than, say, the Keg.

Keith and I bantered over whether or not to order the sea bass. "It's on the endangered species list," he said, "so you may not get another chance a few years from now." "But eating sea bass put it on the endangered species list," I laughed. "You won't save the ones already in the freezer back there," he said. And so on.

My friend Tara cut my story short when I told her yesterday: "You had the chicken," she announced. "Why do you assume I had the chicken?" I said. "You agonize over the menu but you always order the chicken," she said. I frowned at her presumption, especially since I'd had the chicken.

I also welcomed a very positive sign: while preparing to hand Keith a very small, not-serious, not-really-some-sort-of-Valentine's-Day gift, he handed me a gift bag and a long speech about how he doesn't believe in Valentine's Day and how this was "a generic February 14th gift". After opening our gift bags, he found my "romantic jazz" CD an appropriately cheesy gift and I found his DVD copy of "The Manchurian Candidate" an appropriately cynical one. Nice to be sympatico -- especially on that most dreaded of holidays.

Labels: friends, oh l'amour