I spent Valentine's Day last year discussing my love life with The Professor. This year, I got into a car crash.
In my ideal world, I would have been coming up on a one year anniversary with Puck right about now and thus spent the morning analyzing Dog Sees God with him at the coffee shop. I would have worn the fluffy little guava dress covered in swirling rosettes; he would have had his hair dyed back to its normal color (thanks to my wise counsel, of course). We would have trekked to the flower shop in the snow after draining our mugs to feed the parrots apple chunks and pick out a carnation together. Sleep would've come easy that night with his chin hooked over my shoulder after a giant plate of the shrimp scampi I love from the Italian place on the corner.
However, this ideal world does not exist, and instead, me and my tacky mom jeans spent most of the day alone crying in Kath's apartment while my mom ordered me to go read her favorite self-help book over the phone. A man DID take me out to dinner, but it was my dad, not Puck, and it was DQ, not the Italian place. Nobody hooked their chin over my shoulder and cuddled with me. I was supposed to take care of Kath's rabbit yesterday, so you think I'd automatically have something to cuddle with. Unfortunately, Kath's rabbit is no ordinary rabbit. She is the Blair Bitch Project--and the Blair Bitch Project does not cuddle. Additionally, falling asleep and staying asleep was NOT easy, because the deep, artistic hipster queen next door decided she needed her some deep, artistic hipster sex at three in the morning. Deep and LOUD.
I am thankful nobody got hurt.
I am thankful I have the sort of amazing dad who drives out to examine my car on a moment's notice and who takes me out for food. I like food.
I am thankful the car still runs.
But seriously. One classic Valentine's Day with a guy who wears not-sweatpants, combs his hair, can pick out a nice card for me himself, and doesn't make me do all the work. JUST ONE.