Monday, March 1, 2010

Heart-Shaped World

I used to be a person who thought Valentine's Day was silly. I thought it was a fake holiday conjured up by card manufacturers and jewelry dealers to boost first of the year sales.


And then I received my first ever little blue box.

And then I didn't care about the reason for the gift, I just let myself enjoy it. And it was Good. The end.

The beginning? Secret Agent Man is a marathoner. He signed up for the Valentine's Day Austin Marathon months ago, before he even met me. A couple of weeks before V-Day, we circled around the idea of what to do that weekend. I told him: no fancy dinner out. No big deals. Let's just eat cheesecake in our pajamas! Who doesn't want to just eat cheesecake in their pajamas?

He kept asking me, though. I kept telling him. Meanwhile, I started to worry about the gift situation. Should it be a joke gift holiday? Was he going to get all serious on me? I decided to hedge my bets, and went for both. Gift #1 was a ninja weapon--brass knuckles with a pop-out knife. It's. . .a little hard to explain. Gift #2 took some work on my part. I bought a small (3x5) leather joural. I make a list of my 100 favorite things about him, and wrote each on a page in the journal. I walked around for days, just grinning like an idiot while I thought about things for the list. Try it out sometime--making that long of a list isn't easy, but it's really fun.

We kicked off the weekend with brunch on Saturday with his sister and niece. I was on a mission to win over the sister, since I wasn't exactly feeling the love from her. I know how it is; I could like my own sister-in-law more than I do. (And, incidentally, my experience with Secret Agent Man's sister is a good learning experience for me in how I should/could be a better SIL to my brother's wife.) S had put together some Valentine's Day gifts for his niece, who is three and a half. He'd showed me the gifts the night before, but what I didn't realize is that he had also put together a present to her from ME. That's right, he split up the stuff he'd bought her--like a sparkly pen and some stickers, fun little girl kid stuff--wrapped it up in two packages, and put my name on one of them. Seriously man, that's the only Valentine's surprise I needed!

Saturday night was low-key in preparation for the race early the next morning. And by 8am the next morning, I was shivering on the sidewalk with a "MORE COWBELL!" sign, waiting for him to run past. I hooked up with his sister (+ her husband + daughter) at the prearranged time and place, and we cheered him on together. In fact, we cheered everyone on! It turns out marathon runners love the "MORE COWBELL!" People were giving me the thumbs up and shouting at me--I ended up shouting "MORE COWBELL!" at more people than I could count.

Did I mention that I had also obtained a cowbell, which his sister or niece was happy to bang all day long? Awesome! (Really!)

We met him three times total, before the finish line. At the third stop (coveniently right outside his front door), I realized I needed to unload all the candy he'd packed for me to hand out. He'd bought three bags of individually-wrapped treats and a bag of pretzels, and told he me didn't want any leftovers. It turns out, runners want a little boost of sweet or salty energy when they're racing. Every time we saw him, we cheered extra, but also gave him treats. I remembered him telling me about a previous marathon, where some folks made a funny sign that all the runners were talking about afterwards. And that's how I ended up standing on a corner with a sign that said "STRANGER WITH CANDY." I held up the sign and held out a bag of candy, and people loved me! Of course, sister was still working the "MORE COWBELL." Good stuff for bettering, indeed! Every single person who saw us smiled--some laughed, more than one told me I was who their mama warned them about, and many took candy or a pretzel. I felt the love and spread the love!

Have I mentioned that I was wearing a shirt he'd bought me at the runner expo the day prior? It is black, and in red letters across the front it says "Badass." I want to wear it every day.

How could my Valentine's Day get any better?

First, it got a little less good. After he stormed the finish line, sister called a couple of their best girlfriends and herded us all over to PF Chang's. I'd been up since six in the morning, standing in the streets in my Badass shirt; do you think I was PF Chang's material? I was not, but I also hadn't just killed a marathon, so I went along.

And here's the thing about the girls: the four of them (S, sister, girls) all know each other really well and are best friends. The Girls main job in life seems to be drinking and being cool. Seriously. One of them is dating/has dated/sleeps with occasionally (I don't know which, or if it's all of the above) a fairly well-known--okay, let's say famous--fella from Austin. Both of them had just woken up (note: it was approximately 1pm) after three days of drinking that had included a Hill Country wine tour. Yet, they were still cooler than me and looked cuter than me. I feel like a dorky little sister when I'm with them. The Girls make no effort to include me, although one of them is nicer to me than the other, who mostly ignores me. I need to figure out The Girls.

I felt tired and a little cranky after lunch. I insisted on walking to my car while S drove Sister & The Girls to their cars. I just wanted to go home and take a shower. On my way home, S called and we decided to meet up in a few hours at my house for dinner. One delightfully hot shower later, and I felt slightly less tired and cranky. But an hour later he called me: Mr. Marathon was having trouble moving off his own couch. He offered to handle dinner. Could I go to his place? I could; I did.

I arrived to a heart-shaped Mangia pizza, a big salad, and cheesecake. But he wouldn't let me get started until he gave me my present; he'd been excited about it since the day before when I told him he had to wait a day to give it to me. He had me close my eyes, hold out my hands. . .

It felt like a small, light bag. It was a small, blue bag. Tiffany. Tiffany!! If you saw my Las Vegas "photo essay," you may have noticed a pic of Tiffany & Co. That would be because we stopped in to a store while we were there, and as a lark I tried on something very very shiny and expensive. Like, five figures expensive. That's a story for another time. I knew when I pulled the little blue box out of the bag that it wouldn't contain anything like that. Right?

Right! My Valentine gave me a beautiful little heart, on a delicate chain. And I, who used to scoff at Valentine's Day (and jewelry with hearts on it, for that matter), felt my own grinchy heart grow a few sizes.

What could be better than that? When we put on pajamas and ate cheesecake? Well, yes. But also: he told me the Book of Favorites was the best present he'd ever received. No pressure on me when I'm shopping for his birthday gift, right? His birthday is Friday. I have something in the works. It will either be very awesome, or a little weird. Or possibly not quite what I imagined and therefore disappointing to me. Stay tuned.

2 comments:

HappyFrau said...

Whoa, wait a minute. You're in the eating-cheesecake-in-your-jammies stage with zee boyfriend ??!!

You sound so happy and I'm so happy for you. It sounds like your V-day was AMAZING!!!

And, some unsolicited advice. Don't worry too much about The Girls. Be yourself and you'll win them over. And if not, it's their loss.

~N~

Juicy said...

Can we switch lives for a week or so? because your life right now sounds like so much fun. Am jealous.

Happy Valentine's Day, indeed! What a lovely present and I can't wait to read the post about the five-figure piece of jewelry...