Monday, February 14, 2011
A Happy Galentine's Day to All!!!!!
The first thing I'd like to discuss is that I may have a stalker. Or he's at least someone who just can't take the hint. And I don't really know how to handle the situation, mainly because I've never before been presented with such an issue. So I'm opening the floor up to you fine people and asking you to tell me what to do. I met this guy last week at work and did not get a great first impression. The next day he came and talked to me again and I tried to make it clear that I had no interest in speaking with him. For example, I read my book while he was talking to me and gave one word answers if I chose to respond at all. He then proceeded to ask me out for dinner. I told him that being new to the area and all I was still settling in and crazy busy with work and blah blah blah hoping he would get the picture. That was Friday. In the past 72 hours I have received 15 text messages (all with the same sentence: "Hey, it's Bob Lob Law." Literally all of them say the exact same thing.), and 4 phone calls. I have responded to NONE of these attempts to contact me. He also somehow found me on fabo, which was odd to me because he not once has called me by my correct name. He has only called me Nicole. And let's face it, there are like a trillion girls named Nicole out there, so it's kinda strange that he found me so quickly. At this point I am at a loss. I haven't even had the chance to be flattered by this attention because he has just come on waaaaaaay too strong. I don't want to tell him that I'm not looking to date because if word gets around the gym then I'm totally effed. There are some super hot, super nice guys that I've been getting my flirt on with and that kind of rumor would kill all the work I've done. That is all I've got to say on the matter. Now tell me what to do. And now onto bigger and more important things!
Today I received these two Valentine's:
The one on the right is from the Zack Attack (he made it himself!) and the one on the left is from the love of my life. Yes, Homer gave me a Valentine. And yeah ok, maybe it was my sister who bought said Valentine and even forged his name but I knew that he was thinking of me. Because he really loves me. You know how I know? It's because he loves to snuggle with me even when I'm in my sweats and wearing my glasses. That little (he's pretty big actually) pup is just the best thing that ever happened to me. If I never move out of my sister's house it will only be because I couldn't bear leaving that cuddly canine. Ok, here's the thing: I LOVE Valentine's Day. I really do. And not just because I'm a total and complete, hopeless romantic. I mean, I am a romantic, but I wouldn't describe myself as hopeless. Actually, I think Valentine's Day just brings out the girly-girl in me. And yes, I suppose I would have to agree with you when you point out that not only am I the girliest of girls, but I let that side of me out every day. And it's true, it does annoy me that my entire work uniform is black, so much so that I've bought black workout pants that have pink accents on the inside and a pink drawstring. My boss can't see it but I know it's there. And perhaps I have also invested in an new pair of cross trainers that are mostly white but with pink trim. In fact, I am almost positive that my love for Valentine's (get it?) is greatly influenced by the increased use of my favorite color in every day decor. And I don't see anything wrong with that. I know a lot of people are down on Valentine's Day. I mean, if I had a nickel for every time I had to hear someone bash this lovely day, then I would have......I don't know. A lot of nickels. I'm bad at math. The thing that I hate about Valentine's Day is that many (not all, but MANY) attitudes towards the holiday change from year to year, based on whether or not a person HAS a Valentine that year. Well guess what. That is the wrong way to live people! Whether or not you have a man or lady by your side should not EVER have an affect on your happiness or sense of self-worth. Let's face it, almost everybody wants to be with someone else in some way or another. But rushing into a relationship right before Valentine's or simply bemoaning the fact that you have nobody to spend the day with, is just depressing. That means you're either A) So insecure and desperate to be involved with someone on Valentine's Day that you just don't care who you're with, which btdubbz, does not say much for your self respect, or B) Telling yourself that without a significant other, you are not allowed to be happy. THESE THOUGHT PROCESSES ARE NOT OK! Here's the thing: in the Grand Scheme of Things, having a Valentine is just not that important. Unless you're married. And even then it's really not a big deal, because you're married. You've found the love of your life and unless you met each other or exchanged your vows on Valentine's Day, it really won't seem that big a deal ten years down the road. Take myself for example. The only Valentine's Day that I ever actually had a legit Valentine was wonderful. We took a trip up to Boston for the weekend, did dinner, I was given a beautiful necklace, we spent every second of that weekend together. It honestly was everything I had hoped it would be. Well, wouldn't you know that my wonderful, once seemingly perfect Valentine turned out to be none other than the Dark Lord himself? It's true. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was once a very romantic guy. So while that one weekend was filled with love and absolute bliss, it wasn't enough to forget the bad things and it certainly could not make up for the utter shit that I went through for the whole rest of the year. I suppose my point is that nothing is permanent. It doesn't last forever. So whether or not your boyfriend/girlfriend/stalker/crush/no strings hookup buddy that you not-so-secretly have feelings for, sent you flowers or a card or even a heart candy that says "u FOINE" on the front, is not going to matter ten years from now because let's be real here, it'll be nothing short of a miracle. And if the stars really are aligned perfectly and you do by some small miracle end up together, you can always tell the story about how you got a high five for your first Valentine's Day instead of a dozen blood red roses with the thorns cut off so you don't prick your pwecious little fingfings.