Ah, Love Is In The Air... Quick, Get Me The Bug Spray

Ah, February 14th. Valentine’s Day… The time when a young man’s mind drifts to romance and his fancy turns toward Vienna. Or something like that.

Fear not. This is not a bitter diatribe from a lonely heart, harping on being excluded from the festivities for those enamored with one another. Partly because this year I’m not being excluded (woohoo!). Regardless, I’m not slowly drifting around, six inches off the floor like a cartoon animal who’s smelled something tasty, or drowsily picking tulips as I pass by.

We’re not at the ‘drift-and-pluck’ stage, thankfully. Heh heh. Still: Any holiday celebrating a man who got his head cut off is a good one, in my book.

For whatever reason, I find myself thinking about Valentine’s Days past. (No sign of Marley, thank goodness.) Last year’s was not especially pleasant. The year before, John and I were at a restaurant, toasting to our sorrows before going off to Winchester of all places to hang out with women I hardly knew.

This year, I’ve started to date someone that’s… nice. She listens, she’s funny, she’s ready with the occasional barbed comment; and you know how I love those. Things are… pretty damn good, actually.

Oh, sure, there are other things going on at the moment that it wouldn’t be prudent to disclose, so I won’t (but I will happily answer any questions in private). That’s about it, folks.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Go hug somebody.