I'd be the first to acknowledge that Valentine's Day is a construct.
If I'm in a relationship, I'd want attention every day not just on the Hallmark-approved day.
But when you're not in a relationship, VD severely limits what you can do, going out-wise.
My original intention was to go to the Black Valentine's show at Cous Cous, mainly because a friend, Julie Karr, was performing and had told me some of the songs she'd chosen to sing and it sounded like fun.
Then I heard that there was also going to be a bachelor auction and although I had no intention of buying a guy, it promised to have great entertainment value.
And then out of the blue, an old friend offered to make dinner for me and why in the world would I not take him up on that?
It's amateur night in the restaurant world, but a talented friend in the kitchen sounded like a terrific way to spend the evening without all the annoying corniness.
All I had to do was provide wine (ostensibly my excuse for going to the tasting at River City Cellars Friday; thanks for the able assistance, Julia) and choose the music (one of my very favorite assigned tasks anyway).
How easy was this?
So while he effortlessly (or so it appeared) prepared the veal and multiple side dishes, I lounged around, sipping wine and offering conversation.
I'd heard a great two-degrees-of-separation story from the '90s about him just the night before and I couldn't wait to share that.
Reading the Post yesterday morning, I had learned just how shuttered things had been for a week up there due to the snow.
Since he lives in NOVA, I wanted details about how entirely life had been shut down up there, while life had marched on down here thankfully.
The meal was superb as was the conversation and I think I did a pretty decent job with the music, although our similar taste makes that pretty much a given.
Better still, I awoke this morning to a Moss-Covered Stone Heart mix, full of music for hopeless romantics, a category I have fallen into practically since birth.
And, yes, it had "Slow Show" on it.
A meal, a meandering conversation and a mix; it doesn't get much better than that.
*with props to Billy Bragg and, yes, on the mix.