My Forceful Valentine
February 15, 2013
Yesterday was the 16th Valentine's Day Jason and I have spent together. Sixteenth.
Shortly before our first Valentine's Day together, on our very first date, this happened:
You can read the full story behind this newspaper clipping here. Highly recommended reading, especially if you've never dug that far back (2005!) into my blog archives. I would love to say oh, isn't it funny how much I relied on CAPS LOCK and run-on sentences for humor back then, but that would probably spark some kind of existential "LOOK AT YOUR LIFE. LOOK AT YOUR CHOICES."-type crisis that I've been yammering on for over nine years and have still not managed to grow as a writer in the slightest, and it's only 11 am and thus too early to start drinking and hurling glasses at walls because I CAN'T QUIT YOU CAPS-LOOOOOOOOCCCCCKKKK.
Short version, though, for anybody who ain't got time for that: On our first date (that I did not realize was a date), Jason suggested we try to see the newly re-released version of the original Star Wars, even though he knew full well it would be sold out. (Thus "forcing" us to buy tickets for the following weekend, thus ensuring a second date, because that boy was smart.) On our way out of the theater we were randomly interviewed by a reporter about the sold-out showings and Star Wars mania in general. We cracked stupid jokes that sounded even stupider when printed in the paper, but the reporter asked if we were dating and I said "no" and Jason said "bwah?" and I said "ohhhhh." Then we made out in his car and lived happily ever after.
Anyway. We used to keep that newspaper clipping in a frame, but it was starting to yellow and fade so badly that I put it away at some point. I'd completely forgotten about this little bit of ephemera until yesterday. Jason had it reprinted on a Valentine's card for me:
Sixteen Valentine's Days and counting, and that boy still knows how to do them up right.
(This card accompanied a small assortment of vintage L.E. Smith black amethyst vases, because OBVIOUSLY. I immediately freaked out and spent 40 minutes arranging flowers in them [BECAUSE AB CHAO] and then spent another 40 minutes on Google trying to figure out what decade they were from [1930s, possibly even late 1920s; good eye, husband!]. So all-in-all a pretty romantic evening by nobody's standards except mine.)
(I made Jason a card and bought him a book that includes a map of all the whorehouses in Phuket, Thailand, because I am also awesome and way romantic.)