Love Me Dead

"I Love You. That's What's Up."

It’s Valentine’s Day. I only really liked this holiday when I was young and everyone got valentines for each other. (Actually, this lasted through college when I bought Harry Potter valentines from CVS and handed them out to everyone.) I try not to expect something on Valentine’s Day, but I do. I used to get Mike a gift. Something small, like a pair of boxers or something, but for the past couple years, I’ve decided that, you know what, this day is about the girl. I shouldn’t have to get you anything. Do I agree that this day generally sucks for guys? Yes. (Is it coincidence that V-Day rhymes with D-Day??) I don’t believe I know a single guy who actually looks forward to this day. If he does, then he is sucking up to his significant other or just being sickeningly nice which I cannot tolerate. OR they’re not together yet and he is pursuing her, in which case, good move. But you know what, we, girls, do a lot for you guys. We deserve a day.

I realize that paragraph was contradictory.

The past few years, I plan the day with Mike. What should we do? This year, no. I am not planning anything. He asks me what I want to do. I don’t care. “Are you getting me something?” Nope. He’s not asking this because he wants something; only because he wants to gauge what he should get me. He texts me the day before that he was looking up some places to have dinner but they were really expensive. This, I do not care about. In fact, I would prefer to stay in on the actual date of February 14th because everywhere is so crowded and covered in red and pink. Ordering in and hanging out is fine by me, especially since we don’t get many of those nights. (But I still appreciate the fact that he tried.) I drop him off at work that morning. I left a card for him by the computer. All it says is, “I love you. That’s what’s up.” I mean. It’s true.

There is no card for me. Usually, I would make a comment about this. But I don’t let myself because I don’t want to speak too soon (as I have done in the past). I don’t want to jump to conclusions when maybe Mike has something else planned. He does. There’s a knock on my door in the afternoon. “UPS!” I love that sound. It’s a box of chocolate covered strawberries. Aw, I got a valentine! I’m so happy.

I pick up Mike when he gets done work and we order some sushi from a good place he heard about – Sakana in Culver City. It will be an hour until it’s ready, so we find a nearby bar to have a drink while we wait. He finds three to choose from – The Alibi Room, The Corner Door, and something else. Well, I know I’ve heard of The Alibi Room, so let’s go there. This place is tiny and cute and empty. They have a bar menu but it’s very intimate with plush furniture and candles and a nice ambience, so I’m surprised they’re not more busy. I say so to Bartender 1. “Uh, it’s Valentine’s Day.” Uh, yea, I know. Bitch. She is the worst. Bartender 2 takes our order and makes up for Miss Bitch by being extra sweet. We realize that the only reason I’ve heard of The Alibi Room is because it’s the name of the bar in Shameless.

I tell Mike that earlier while I was driving a car almost hit me. The light turns green; I slowly start to move forward and this huge truck with some punk at the wheel is flying at me from the left, sticks his hand out towards me, I guess telling me to stop, and goes right through the red light. A lot of times when the light turns green, I almost gun it. If I did this time, I swear, I’d be dead. “Man, I would be rich.” I would be dead. “I’d make bank, though.” No, you wouldn’t. My parents would. (Just some typical Valentine’s Day talk.)

The night ends with sushi and wine while catching up on our shows: Community, Parks and Rec, and Girls. Perfect.


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