Not a Player, No Longer a Predator

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Thursday, 22 February 2007

All we need is just a little Patience...

Posted on 09:19 by Unknown
When I asked RedSox if we were celebrating Valentines, I inquired with curiosity and defense.

"Did you want to celebrate Valentines? Because I'm totally not expecting to and perfectly fine not doing anything since we're just middle ground."

"Actually I assumed we were. The date just creeped up on me"- RedSox

Growing up I was taught that Valentines is the one day out of the year that a man can show he is romantic, and all the commercial industries offer plenty of help so that much thought isn't needed... and yet somehow most men still fail.

I've never experienced the failure. Either I've been single on Valentines, or I went ahead and planned the holiday. There is no failure when I do the work.

When I told this to RedSox, he said that he wanted to plan it. I had a bit of an anxiety attack because this meant reliquishing control, but I submitted and also started thinking of other plans since I was sure he would fail.

I get every single events/restaurant/entertainment email one could possibly receive in Boston, so I knew of pretty much everything going on for Valentines. I deleted most of them because I wasn't planning the day. One did strike me, though. It was a Valentines dinner with live Sinatra music. I had to tell RedSox, because I just LOVE Sinatra.

He jokingly got mad at me for trying to plan Valentines, and he told me that he planned on cooking for me. I was pretty excited because I love men in the kitchen.

The day before Valentines he asked me about Mistral, my favorite restaurant in Boston, because his friend wanted to know my thoughts on it. I told him to tell his friend that it is my favorite restaurant but I'm sure it's booked for the holiday. RedSox admitted he was the "friend," and figured that was the case.

I thought he was cooking for me?

At this point I pretty much decided the holiday was going to be a wash-out, but I wouldn't be upset because I already assumed he was going to fail.

On Valentine's day, a snow storm hit Boston. RedSox and I chatted online throughout the day. Before he signed off, he told me he would call about picking me up.

Around 6pm I felt a twinge of hunger. I called just to get an idea of what time. He was at the grocery store buying everything and told me 7pm. Around 6:45pm, I received a delivery of roses. They were beautiful and I forgot about the time.

At 7:30, I felt hungry and called again. He was still out buying stuff, apologized and said he would drop everything off and come over. At 8:15, I ate a piece of cake.

At approximately 8:45pm, he picked me up. I'm not mad though. This is what happens on Valentines... plus I had beautiful roses to stare at.

When he opened the door to his place, there were candles lit all over the place and he had Sinatra playing in every room. He opened a bottle of Pinot Noir from the Willamette Valley and banned me from the kitchen to cook. I relaxed with great wine and some TV.

The meal was excellent. Everything was fabulous.

I realized I need to have a little more faith in men and exercise patience, because I'm sure I couldn't have planned anything better.
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