All narcissism aside, I am the best date I've ever had. I always take myself out to a place I want to go, I always pay for me, and I always get lucky at the end of the night. What could be better?
After my recent brief dating debacle, I was actually really glad to be alone on Valentine's Day this year. Other years have sucked, particularly last year, when right about now I was just getting out of work. But this year I took off early, having lunch with Edith at Uno's and then getting my hair did at Wonderland - which, combined with my recent grooming, pedicure and teeth whitening, made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. I then took my bad self out for drinks and dinner to Gramery Tavern, a Danny Meyer dream for someone like me who's already obsessed with Blue Smoke and Shake Shack.
After an orgasmic stuffed meatball and bacon-chocolate tart, I met up with Michelle for cocktails at Flatiron Lounge, a place where I would not find cute boys but which always feels like a special occasion.
I tried to go to George's bar for some mayhem, but without George there, it just didn't seem worth it. And after considering a late-night stop at Rodeo Bar, I just decided to go home, satisfied with myself and in not finding Prince Charming tonight. I've never found him any other Valentine's Day, might as well go home and watch LOST instead.
I did get one flower today, a rose from our mailroom assistant who distributed them to every female in our office. It didn't make me feel special, but it did give me a bit of a tingle I wouldn't have otherwise had.
Happy Valentine's Day indeed. In a terrifying turn of events, I'm content being alone.