Do you like to cuddle?: Sure sure, when it gets cold or while watching tv or whatever
Can we make-out?: Probably. Don’t put stock in plans for spontaneous activities though. Really, who plans this kind of stuff? That usually just applies for anything past Some things need to be planned but not all! :)
A night in or dinner out?: Hey, don’t dock points for how sloppy that previous answer looks, thanks
Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?: IRRELEVANT!!
What makes you a good Valentine?: Well. On paper it doesn’t look so good!! And I’m finding that out now, but OBVIOUSLY it has to be the free massages and chiropractic work as my redeeming qualities!
Would you let me cook for you?: Listen. If you can cook, we don’t need to acknowledge the previous one. HOWEVER. Other than in a life or death situation where we’re starving together, I’d cook for you in return for you cooking for me. So an equal exchange of sorts. You could say it’s just about fairness and equality except it isn’t inherently equal. Or fair, though I don’t think I’m THAT bad at it!!!
from @theperfectpsychic (ACCEPTING)
“Do you really think I’d spend Valentine’s Day watching tv? Lame-o.” She scoffs at the mental scene. As romantic as snuggling up with someone in the winter’s cold could be, a television’s blaring sounds and aggressive images only tarnish the daydream. “It’s not like I’m planning on making out either. Isn’t this some kinda consent form? ‘Check the box here to opt-in to potential make-outs if the mood is right’!” He can’t possibly think the intent was to pencil-in a little bit of mouth-to-mouth action in their daily planners. He isn’t even answering the questions. She wonders why he bothered to fill out the form in the first place. “Serious applicants only,” she ought to have specified—like a job listing.
“Way to enforce gender stereotypes, dude.” Her nose wrinkles. “I gotta be the one cooking, ’cause I’m a domestic goddess, right? You have to be able to cook. Live on your own, don’t you? How else is your body gonna get fuel? I’m actually a fantastic chef, but if you won’t even think about cooking for me, we’re gonna have a bad time. Picture these big brown eyes looking up at you with admiration for the bountiful feast I’m about to receive. Don’cha want that memory seared in your retinas?”
He truly, tragically, inconceivably doesn’t look good on paper. And yet—
“Oh, whatever! Accepted! Been years since I had a good massage.” They’d need a whole evening to work out all her kinks.