Happy Valentine’s Day are the three most unwelcome words to most singles. And to a lot of married people too. It’s not that I don’t like love. I’m in the love business. I am a hopeless romantic. I am happily married. But I secretly hate Valentine’s Day. Please don’t tell my husband, or he’ll stop getting me the obligatory card and flowers. I would be embarrassed not to get them, even though I hate Valentine’s Day. Thankfully, he doesn’t read my blog. 😉
Guys- let me tell you this- even if a girl hates Valentine’s Day, even if she seems like the biggest tomboy in the world, even if she is the most independent career girl you have ever met, she will silently turn to the mush inside the Cadbury chocolate egg on Valentine’s Day. (i.e. a sweet mess. If she happens to be a hot mess too, then you’ve got a keeper.)
It’s so much pressure. I know, that’s why I don’t like it. It’s especially unfair to guys. They can’t win and they have to be emotional on cue. Actually, they can win. If they propose on Valentine’s Day. Another word to guys- if you are anywhere close to engagement (which could even include being on a second date) the thought will cross her mind. We can’t help it; it must be the estrogen. Which is probably offset by the seratonin in the chocolate, so that explains the Godiva Diva Empire.
Here’s one more tip guys- you actually can win another way- buy lingerie for Valentine’s Day. This will show her that you still think of her in that way and it might help you get laid for Valentine’s Day. So I recommend that more than chocolate or flowers. However, if the thought of your wife/girlfriend in a Victoria’s Secret teddy makes you want to cringe because of the “freshman 20” she’s gained in the face of your relationship gone stale, I can’t help you. Well, not with a quick tip. There’s ways to approach this but not on Valentine’s Day. Contact me for coaching and we’ll tawk….
Did I mention that I hate Valentine’s Day? Maybe that’s why this blog is turning so sour right now. I think I’m being cruel and cynical. That’s not like me at all. Here’s the story of how I met my husband, as told by the New York Times, on July 1, 2001, our wedding day. I really am a hopeless romantic- believe me.
“Ms. Slotnick opened Drip, where customers can post personal ads on the bulletin board or in loose-leaf binders, in May 1996. ”I always thought that someday my own dream man would walk in,” she said.
Instead, he almost walked right past her. She encountered Mr. Aferiat not at Drip, but near the corner of 67th Street and Columbus Avenue on a November evening in 1999. She had stopped to make a call on her cellphone when he and a friend passed. She and Mr. Aferiat exchanged smiles, but neither Mr. Aferiat nor his friend broke stride.
Ms. Slotnick put away her phone and followed them. ”After the initial eye contact,” she said, ”I was hoping that he would strike up a conversation.”
For his part, Mr. Aferiat said he timed his stride so she would catch up by the time he reached the corner. When she did, he turned to her.
”He smiled again, and I knew he was interested,” Ms. Slotnick said. ”But I actually started the conversation.” They exchanged numbers, he called her the next day and they went out on their first date the day after.
Five months later, Mr. Aferiat arranged to meet Ms. Slotnick on the Upper West Side, near his office, from which they would walk to a restaurant for a dinner date. At Columbus and 67th, he stopped and opened his briefcase.
”I looked around and said, ‘Wow, this is exactly where we first met,’ ” recalled Ms. Slotnick, who thought Mr. Aferiat didn’t have a clue to the sentimental significance of the spot.
”That’s why I brought you here,” Mr. Aferiat answered, before giving her an engagement ring. ”I wanted to bring you back to the place where my life changed.””
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