There are a few reasons Valentine’s Day is not my holiday. First, I’m not a very romantic person. I’m not easily wooed, flattery does not work on me, and I can be terribly oblivious to obvious displays of affection. Second, I’m big on plans. I often make a fit if things don’t go the way I planned, which is why I ask my boyfriend, Jacob, to plan our dates. Third, I can’t stand all the stories I hear from my friends about Valentine’s Day. I don’t mind hearing the gist of their evening, but by the end of some of these stories I can tell you exactly what my friend wore, how many miles they drove to the restaurant, what she ate, what he ate, how many times they held hands, etc.
So I’m already not a huge fan of this holiday, but I can certainly tell you how much I hated Valentine’s Day a couple of years ago. The evening began well enough with the car ride to the restaurant, but when we arrived and told them our reservation they announced that it didn’t exist. After re-checking and re-checking they continued to confirm that Jacob’s name was not on the reservation list. Slightly irked, we just decided to wait the 45 minutes to get a table. It was very romantic; standing incredibly close in a small waiting room that was not meant for over five people yet somehow had the entire city crammed into it.
Finally we were called and on the way to the table a waiter accidentally spilled some sort of soda down my back. I jumped up nearly knocking a senior citizen’s teeth out in shock. After going to the table I went straight to the bathroom since I could already feel the stickiness of the soda on my back. I tried cleaning it the best I could, but since it was on my back I couldn’t get most of it and had to give up. Unfortunately, the table was on the opposite side of the restaurant so I got to feel the stickiness with every step. When I was nearing the table the manager came up to me and pulled me aside. At this point I was thinking, “Oh no, what now?” But I wasn’t expecting this. He said to me out loud and very clearly, “Excuse me, ma’am, you should check your skirt.” I looked at the front and there was nothing wrong so I ran my hand smoothly down the backside and found that I walked across the entire place with my skirt in my underwear. Well after that, Jacob and I decided the next course of actions would be to order food, go home, take a shower, get in sweats, and watch a movie. What could be more romantic than that?