TMI Questions: Happy Valentine’s Day

Ah, romance, thy name is Valentine’s Day.  I simply adore the idea of this holiday; an opportunity to celebrate our ability to express our deep appreciation for a significant other.   I feel sorry for those people who are unable to express such feelings. 

Emotions are what keep us human and prevent us from becoming serial killers.

If I was answering these questions last year I would be spitting nails, so bitter was I.   But that whole stance was my way of protecting myself from my created reality; a rather dry, impersonal existence, to say the least.   

I remain grateful for the wake-up call.

Life is so much easier when certain joy fills one’s days.

TMI QUESTIONS:

Questions designed to reveal Too Much Information

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TMI Questions: Happy Valentine’s Day

What do you think of Valentine's Day?

Love it!  Always have, even when I didn’t have a Valentine. 

I like the colors.  I like the shape of hearts.  I like that romance is talked about, dissected, and in the headlines.

As a kid, I loved all the crafts that we had to do in grade school related to Valentine’s Day.  Making that card depository for my desk?  Oh, yeah, it was a big deal.  Carefully selecting just the right Valentine for the right person… crucial.  Candy hearts and brilliant red heart-shaped lollies?  Oh, but which?  And to whom?  What message would I be sending?

In the words of Ralph Wiggum: Would I be “Choo-choo choosing” you?

I loved cutting hearts out of construction paper – the shape and the crunch of the scissors biting into its crisp pristine thickness.  The messiness of red crepe paper meeting Elmer’s glue and the side of a milk carton.  The endless chains of pink and red paper…

You know those horribly formulaic rom-com movies that actresses of a certain age get stuck making a ton of until they are no longer of a certain age?  I love them.  No matter how horrible.  In fact, the worse they are, the more I ‘heart’ them.  Yes, they are all as predictable as something stupid coming out of the mouths of a politician or religious leader, but that is one of the reasons I ‘heart’ them so much. 

I wish real love was as predictable.  And stupid.  And met expectations.  Or not.  Sort of.  

Know what?

I was, literally, made for Valentine’s Day.

Are you romantic?

Absolutely.  100%.  Baby, I was born this way.

It is in my astrological make-up, as well.

But I truly have always believed in love; romantic, head-over-heels, crazy love.  Drowning in it would not be a bad way to go.  I suckle at its teat.  I worship at its altar.

I know.  This – coming from me.

But that demonstrates just how far from ‘whom really am’ I had strayed during the past eighteen years. 

For the past three months?  I’ve been born again. 

Candy or Flowers?

Neither.  Give me kisses.  Lots and lots of lip-on-lip action, please.

There is something about kissing that, for me, is much more intimate than something as carnal as fucking.  I think it has to do with the fact that your faces are so close to one another’s. 

You really have to be into someone to risk drooling, breathing, snorting, swallowing, or gulping when so physically close.  Also – the whole eyes open / eyes shut thing plays into it.  And then there is the meshing of the lips.  And breath – good or bad.  It’s all a wonderful / horrible risk; the kind I like to take over and over again.

It is not always 100% right upon first contact.  With some people you have to warm them up and try different lip placements to get it to work.  But when it does work for both parties?  Well, there is simply no questioning it.  It is the place where the essence of a couple begins and will always exist.

If you ever need to reboot your relationship?  Go there.  

Kissing remains the best gift a couple can give one another.

That said, I am all about sending / buying flowers.  Buying chocolate.  I love that moment of appreciation, as much as I love the fact that I am privileged enough to have someone to give these things to.  It’s also one of the tangible ways I can communicate how I feel about someone without saying ‘those three words’.

I don’t expect anything in return. 

I’m not much of a gift receiver.

Unless it’s a passionate kiss.  

What is Valentine's Day like when you're single?

Fine. 

I don’t go out.  I send cards to family members.

I will watch a stupid rom-com movie.  I especially enjoy those that make me cry, because I am a sentimental boob who enjoys a good pity party from time to time.

I especially like those movies I ‘happen on’ on television – with commercials.  For some reason, I feel like they are a gift (the movies, not the commercials) – like a freebie and also something the universe wants me to watch.

I don’t learn anything from them.  But for those two hours?  I am very, very content.  And hopeful.

Also, I get to pretend I’m someone else; which is something I have always loved to do.

I don’t drink alone, so a glass of wine plays no part. Potato chips and snacks like that hold no appeal for me either. No candy, either.  I am more likely to make a giant batch of mashed potatoes and carb my way through it.

What do you plan on doing this Valentine's Day?

Take my boyfriend to a nice restaurant.  It will be our first Valentine’s Day together, so I need to make it special.  For me, the day needs to be about the two of us.

He reads this blog on occasion, so I won’t say more. (And, no… I don’t have much else planned.  If you have any suggestions, please let me know.)

February 14^th happens to also be my birthday, which is something I don’t celebrate very often.  This year won’t be an exception to that.  I want to make the day about ‘us’, not me.

Having a birthday on Valentine’s Day?  Sort of a win/win.  I mean, if no one sends you a Valentine’s Day card, at least you get some birthday cards and some attention from your immediate family. 

Your relationship is ending; do you break up before or after?

Before, definitely.  I couldn’t imagine faking my way through a Valentine’s Day dinner or (worse) Valentine’s Day sex.  I’m a total shyster, but not even I could pull that off.  Unless I hated the person and it was a matter of revenge.

Breaking up would be hard for both of us, and, while I used to relish the idea of lying, I couldn’t lie my way through something like that.  Besides, the writing would have been on the wall (and on my face) long before the final denouncement.  I don’t possess much of a poker face – people can pretty much read me like a book. 

If I’m not happy?  Oh, yeah, people know it.

What was your WORST Valentine's Day?

I already shared my worst birthday experience in a previous TMI Question post.  I don’t have a worst Valentine’s Day.  I have always been smart and avoided going out on a date on the big day.  The whole concept sets you up for a bit of a letdown, especially if that person doesn’t feel about you the way you feel about them. 

So, better to stay home, alone and eat mashed potatoes.

I do remember my first Valentine's Day high school dance.  We were in 7th Grade, and we got to hold it in the cafeteria.  Yes, it was very romantic.  

I got dressed three times, because I kept sweating through my polyester shirt!  My hair looked horrible, as per usual, and my expectations were set pretty high.  I had seen enough after-school specials to know what was expected of me... and I was going to be that teen; the one that danced.

I walked to the dance.  It had rained earlier and there were still puddles on the ground.  By the time I arrived, the bottom of my beautiful white velveteen elephant bell bottoms were splotched with dirt.  I was a wreck.  

Fortunately, the cafeteria was very dark, so, after a bit,  I got over myself.  I took in the lay of the land... everybody was divided into their cliques.  I only had a few friends at that point and none of them had decided to come, so I was the stinky cheese hanging like a total loner.  But I'd come to dance... and that was exactly what I was going to do.

I watched the girls and figured out who I might have the best chance with.  I didn't bother with any of the popular girls - I knew they were too stuck up and would say 'no'.  So, I looked for someone with potential.  Five songs in, I knew that I was running out of time (and potential girls), so I picked someone I didn't know very well.  She played piano, had long dark hair, and was sort of shy.  She said yes, and we danced the whole rest of the night.

The last song was a slow song (gasp) and so we hugged each other and swayed in circles.  I kept trying to keep things interesting (I knew the boy was supposed to lead).  I sweated so much, I am amazed that I did not dehydrate and disintegrate.  

She didn't say anything about it.  The lights came up.  I said 'Thank you,' shot out of there like my pants were on fire and ran all the way home.

We never dated (I never did).  Or danced together ever again.

From that point on, I only danced with girls who already had boyfriends or had no interest in me at all. 

What was your BEST Valentine's Day?

I think they are to come.

It’s weird, but… I have never been more certain about something in my whole stinking life.

I’m even okay if I’m wrong about the whole thing, too.  If I am wrong?  It’s a mistake anybody would have gladly made. 

And if I’m right?

(Which I am.)

Well, life will continue to lose that stink, I will continue to stop thinking of myself in terms of losing and having no luck, and hope… hope will take up permanent residence in my heart and not be something I feel only when watching by-the-numbers rom-coms while stuffing my face full of mashed potatoes!

Bonus

Do you expect to have sex because it's Valentine's Day?

I don’t expect to have sex because it’s Valentine’s Day or my birthday.

I simply expect sex.

Why?

Because I am breathing.

The clock is ticking.  Life is short.  Have sex. 

Why not?  If he’s there and you’re there?  Get naked.

It’s good for your prostate gland, too.

There was a time when I knew not to expect sex and therefore would look elsewhere.  That resulted in a ton of forgettable encounters, many of which I wouldn’t remember at all, except I kept a detailed Excel spreadsheet for the past five years.

I just checked the stats I kept for the previous five years.  No sex on February 14^th.

No Valentine’s Day sex.  No birthday sex.

There’s something awfully wrong about that.

It could be that the romantic in me has such respect for the day that, on a subconscious level, I innately knew better than to cheapen it by having some crappy anonymous sex.

Or maybe I just couldn’t get lucky on that day. 

I don’t remember.

There were 351 other days when I could do that (and did).

But this year… this year is different.

Romance has returned to my life and I think I’ve found someone who appreciates all that mushy stuff as much as I do.  And he really does… appreciate it.  I think we are the salve to the other one’s wounds. 

On our first real date… he took my hand as we walked three blocks to a nearby restaurant… and he never let go.  I was never prouder to hold someone’s hand in my life. 

So, go ahead, lay the romance on as thick as you want and…

...let the music play.

Don’t worry. 

This time… I came to dance.

Nobody Slow Dances Anymore

I want to slow dance with somebody. Well, not just anybody… I want it to be intimate and a bit sexual. That kind of linger where it hurts too good to back away. The kind of press, where you don’t know quite whom is holding up whom – but you are both somehow defying gravity. You're floating on a grace not experienced anywhere else but on the dance floor during the soft caress of a really dynamite ballad.

So, why doesn’t anybody slow dance anymore?

I have heard tales of a time when gay men came together to do just that, at a celebration called a ‘Tea Dance’. These were held, typically, on Sunday afternoons as a sort of antidote to the debauchery of the previous night. There was usually some free food available and a Bloody Mary bar complete with big pickle spears, stalks of celery and anything else you could stick into a tall, cold glass of instant sunshine. Drinking a Bloody Mary on a Sunday afternoon always makes me feel like I’m doing something healthy for my body - all the while I get my slight buzz on and, yes, I know in the back of my head that there ain’t nothing healthy about it. But sometimes clinging to an illusion allows us to enjoy the moment.

At these ‘Tea Parties’, you would: still be attached to your previous night’s trick (meaning all went well in the boudoir), come with your partner, be joining a group of friends, or simply go to see who else showed up. The crowd probably included a lot of older types – the ones for whom last night’s disco failed to compel them to the dance floor or the ones who had to get up early for church or to make the doughnuts. In any case, they couldn’t stay up late enough to catch the sidewalk sale. They’re here to dance today, though. Slow dance.

All it takes is the right song. A lyric, a melody… something that envelopes you and makes you yearn for the embrace of another. Your arms ache, too. They want to hold somebody.

I’ve never been one of those who like to hang on my dance partner. Part of this is due to my height. Being tall doesn’t make hanging a comfortable option. And part of this is due to the fact that I am uncomfortable being held aloft by anybody else (I like to hold up my end of the bargain). So, while my head or chin may rest on a guy’s shoulder, there is never much weight placed upon it.

If I had the chance to slow dance today, I’d just sway. Gently. When I was younger I was always concerned about being boring. I would constantly change up the direction I rotated and try different patterns - all to the consternation of my dancing partner. It may have been awkward at times, but I didn’t want it to get stale.

Today, that would not be a concern. I would just enjoy the intimacy. Ahh, the intimacy - which I suspect is the real reason no one slow dances anymore. So many fear it. Me? I would just drink in all that beautiful warmth.

I doubt I’ll ever get to attend a ‘Tea Dance’. I don’t see them making a comeback any time soon. And lacking an outlet, opportunity and location to do so, I also doubt I will get to slow dance in public any time soon.

Which brings me to the thing I would most like to do in the solitude of my living room. Unfortunately, the partner’s with whom I have shared living room’s in the past have always pushed me away when I suggested it or grabbed them un-expectantly in order to mold them into such an embrace. It could be me. Maybe the thought of lingering that close to me without the potential of an orgasm was distasteful to them. Or it could be about them… for the same reason.

In the late eighties, I remember slow dancing at the end of a Saturday night during last call with my best friend. Neither of us had found anybody to hook up with that night. Me: not for lack of trying. Him: because he was always a bit of an ice princess and maybe too picky for his own good. It was last call and the DJ played a chilled out cover of Prince’s “Nothing Compares 2 U” with a sweet female vocal. It was a nice moment. We just sort of fell into it. We'd been dancing together for the previous song, and was caught unaware. It wasn’t sexual, but it was romantic. We were dancing in appreciation of each other. It was sweet and brief and everything I longed for in that moment.

We remained best friends for over 20 years. Now we’re not friends. And, in fact, I don’t really have a best friend like that in my life. But there was that moment. And that is how I like to remember us.

I mourn our friendship.

I mourn for the loss of slow dancing, too.

It always brings to mind that wonderful Johnny Rivers song… “Slow dancing, swaying to the music, just me and my girl…”

Well… maybe some day.