"If beauty has a name, then hers must be the same."
That's a quote. It came from a Kevin Gilbert song. "Who?" you ask? He's just a musician from the 90s. He didn't have any hits, but I liked his way of juxtaposing lyrical concepts. This is not an example of that. It's just a cool lyric. I always thought it was a great way of describing a woman. I gotta tell you, it fares much better than "what knockers!" Not that I would ever say something like that unless I was quoting Young Frankenstein; you can call off your torch wielding villagers. They're trampling my lawn.
It's true though, somewhere deep inside I'm a romantic. I know, hard to believe. I'm also a guy, so it's buried pretty deep. You have to dig past the nougaty goodness of perpetual adolescence and thick testosterone shell. Yeah, you probably should wear gloves.
Once inside, you will find a sweet soul that likes Valentine's Day. I'm a sucker for making my somebody feel special. Sure, last year Cupid took a few rounds to the chest, but's ok, he's like Tupperware: he's durable, and he'll keep cold until I need him again. I don't really need to pull him out of the freezer now, but tis the season. I'm having troubles explaining the dead cherub next to the chicken breasts. So now he's on my back porch, He's brought a following feelings like pesky flies. It doesn't help that it's been over a year since I've felt loved.
Well wait. I know, "awww, poor Rob." It's not like that though. I mean, I'm establishing a new network of friends, and I do feel like people care. It's just that there's a gaping hole where MyUnwife used to be. I've curtained it off, and moved it to the corner. If you visit, you'll hardly notice it, but sometimes an empty wind rushes through; the curtains lick out, like they're trying to grasp me, and drag me in. The breath is icy; ignore it. It goes away.
But back to the point: I do like Valentine's Day. I am a little melancholy that I'm missing this one. I mean I could pamper me, but what's so special about that? I do that every day. Buying me chocolates and roses, and lighting candles just seems superfluous. Even worse, Valentine's Day isn't like Christmas. It's not a good holiday for random acts of kindness. I knock on a neighbor's door, bearing gifts, and I'm lucky if I'm not farting rose petals for a month. Husbands don't like other men to share in the giving spirit this time of year.
So I'll sit this one out. It's for the best. I did get a call from a sexy woman today though.
"Hi, I'm Matilda Frothfang."
"Hi Matilda."
"I'm calling you because Cool Candidate X needs your support."
"Really? Has anyone ever told you, you have a sexy voice Matilda?"
"...is his plan for making this a better place."
"I couldn't agree more! So what are you wearing?"
"—the mantle of a strong family values."
"Wow, sounds sexy. Tell me more."
So we talked for a few hours. Matilda was prerecorded, so she repeated things a lot, but I couldn't help feel a special bond between us. She wants me to join her tonight at my local voting place. I think it's cool that she knows where I vote. It shows initiative.
Matilda is the only woman in my life right now. I know it's not long term, but at least It'll get me through the holiday: I've recorded her. She's in my voicemail, and "She talks in beauty, like the night." It's not quite a quote, but I like that too. Maybe I'll whisper it to her tonight.
"Press 1 to hear your message again…"
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