Me on Valentine’s Day.
I’ve never been able to get worked up enough about Valentine’s day to care if I don’t have a date, and it’s a Hallmark holiday, it doesn’t reflect what love really is, and blah blah blah. But I still like it. It’s fun to have one day a year when, if you’re with someone, you can do something that you’ll both remember, simply by virtue of it falling on this one day.
Throughout most of college, I spent Valentine’s day with Sumeet (college boyfriend, now best friend). Sophomore year we went to dinner at SushiSamba, my favorite Japanese fusion restaurant in the city, and junior year we wet to the Picasso/Matisse exhibit at MoMA in Queens. But last year was the best, even though all our plans went to hell. I was working as an editor at NYU’s daily paper, and was used to being at the office until 2am every night of the week. Because it was Valentine’s day, I had asked one of my dateless deputy editors to cover for me so that I could go out. Which worked out, until her boyfriend came in for a surprise visit and I was stuck having to finish out the night. We had plans to go to the NYU production of The Vagina Monologues, so I tried to get my work done early, without success. I went to the play anyway, but got a call from the editor-in-chief during intermission and had to go back. Sumeet came with me, and hung around the newspaper office for hours while I finished my work — and continued to be patient and nice even after I was cranky and mean about our night being ruined. We had dinner plans after the play, but as the hours went by it became clear that we weren’t going to make it to any restaurants before closing. Finally, at almost 11pm, my work was almost done, and he called every restaurant he could think of asking if they’d seat us. None would. He was starving and cranky, I was starving and cranky… it was bad. He finally called our favorite Italian place, who said they’d deliver — but that they’d be at his apartment in 10 minutes. We hustled out of the office, but it was pouring rain and I was in heels, and there was no way I was going to be able to walk fast enough to get to his apartment by the time the food came. And as New Yorkers know, there are never any cabs around Union Square when it rains, so that wasn’t an option. Instead, Sumeet gave me his umbrella and, in his nice clothes and dress shoes, sprinted back to his apartment in the downpour. By the time I hobbled there, he had the food laid out on plates, a dozen roses on the table, a card for me, a bottle of wine, and candles lit around the room. It’s hard to stay cranky after all that. We had a quiet, private, amazing dinner, with the usual great conversation. It was low-key, fun, and incredibly thoughtful — and this was at the point where we weren’t technically a couple, so it didn’t feel like it was done out of obligation. It was just nice.
And that, friends, is my best Valentine’s day ever. Tonight, I’m meeting up with Shannon (the roommate) and Sumeet for a glass of wine, then dinner at a surprise location chosen by Sumeet. I can’t wait. Until then, it’s catching up on the reading I haven’t done this week.
Now, your turn. Best Valentine’s Day ever. Or, if you’ve got a good story, give us your worst.