COMPLETED DATES: 2
DATES ON DECK: 3
CURRENTLY COMMUNICATING WITH: 12 Men
I survived the day, readers---date free and almost completely content. In spite of this illegitimate, commercially charged “holiday”, my spirits were bolstered by the lingering aftertaste of a wonderful weekend:
Friday-alumni night, Saturday-karaoke with my gays, and Sunday-an unusual outing with Piano Man.
Truth time: I may or may not have had a [brief] fling with my jazz piano teacher. And he may or may not have turned out to be an emotionally confused disaster. And you may or may not be able to guess how I feel about emotionally confused disasters.
But really---we’re just friends now. No romance here. No attraction either. Just one small girl, helping her disastrously confused piano teacher through his latest drama.
“This is for you” he said revealing a single red rose from behind his back.
And apparently---that’s exactly what my face said too.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Wrong? Oh no… of course n…”
“Because I thought I’d try to win you over, you know… Valentine’s Day and all.”
“Win me over?” I was confused. Last I heard Piano Man was trying to win back the affection of his ex-girlfriend.
“It just wasn’t working and we decided to separate.”
After an awkward pause, I finally took the rose.
I will say---Piano Man put together quite the day: Authentic Thai followed by Magnolia Bakery cupcakes and finally, ending with the MoMA.
Before long, we’d fallen into a familiar rhythm of strange tangents and quick jokes. We talked about how our lives were really going, not just the versions we tell the general public. And somewhere between the rose and the Rothko, I realized---I was enjoying myself.
At this point, the sane part of my brain told me I had to get out of there. So Piano Man walked me to Grand Central Station and bid me farewell.
Arriving home, exhausted, I put my single red rose in water and went to sleep.
When I arrived at work this morning---love was in the air. Or should I say sugar? Sugar was in the air. Goodie bags, chocolate kisses and our very own cookie decorating party at noon.
As I sat, icing my obnoxious pink cookie, the girls all chit-chatted about their exciting evening plans.
“What about you, Alex? Any dates?”
“Oh no… I sort of had one this weekend” I replied.
“Yesterday. We went to the…” but I had lost them. Everyone looked at each other in a moment of horrifying telepathy.
“What?” I wanted to know.
“Yesterday,” said one of my co-workers “was National Mistress Day.”
Well Hallmark, I think you've found your next big money maker… Have at it.