Valentine’s Day

My Valentine’s Day was relatively normal for me. Which is to say, slightly amusing, relatively absurd, and pretty much downright sad.

My best friend in town is JD (no, not Jack Daniels). In November, we came to realize that we were both new at work, didn’t know anyone, felt left out and bored a lot. Our conversation of how we needed to become a tag-team that instigated social outings sounded very much like two Teddy Ruxpin dolls meeting each other for the first time (I could have sworn I posted this back when she and I had this conversation, but now I can’t find it).

Instead, the social events we planned on creating, we  pretty much settled into “grab a drink and complain about work” outings. Which we try to do once a week, but end up doing more like once every three weeks.

Having pushed back a couple intending outings already, we had a quick “does Monday work?” At about 5:30 p.m. Monday, it occurred to me that I had made a ‘date’ for Valentine’s Day without realizing it.

Naturally the place we went to at 6:15 was packed, so we sat at the bar. Complained about work, had a couple drinks and got our buzzes on while our food took forever to come out.

At one point, I picked up my phone and sent a text to a female friend of mine to see if our plans for Friday were still on. They were. I’m now the guy who’s out with a girl on Valentine’s Day and not only texting, but setting up a ‘date’ with a different girl.  JD and I then traded Valentine’s Day tales of sadness and eventually our food came out.

And the end of dinner, I thoroughly enjoyed the dirty look from the waitress when we split the dinner check.

How dare you judge me? You don’t know us, our relationship and our arrangements. Maybe I pay for everything BUT Valentine’s Day dinner? Maybe I provide her with everything she needs in life: rent, clothes, car, etc?  Maybe she’s in MY dog house because she hasn’t shown ME how much she cares. I like to be appreciated. I think flowers are pretty. Or maybe we’re co-workers. Whichever, bring my food in a timely manner before judging me.

Although, come to think of it, we DID do the “2 entrees and an appetizer” package thing.

Anyhow, we called it a night and I headed home where I played video games, watched Chuck and had two text conversations for an hour with girls who have boyfriends that aren’t me.

I’m pretty sure my driver’s license should just list my address as “Friend Zone”

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