This Saturday is...oh...you know.

It's supposed to be 52 degrees here in the Boston area today. That's warm enough to melt the ice on the driveway. Warm enough to mean that a walk is in order. Warm enough to have some amount of hope that Spring will show up eventually. Still... I'm not fooled. I KNOW that there are still too many days to come where my nose and toes will be froze.
My personal Room 101 never gets above 40 degrees.

Today is Wednesday. I have no current plans other than job-hunting, and that, my friends, is a thankless, fruitless effort (it would seem). That isn't what I'm actually focused on right now though. I'm focused on that day - Saturday. You know what Saturday is: it's the day that people buy over-priced roses and Russell Stover chocolates in the heart-shaped box. It's the day that every guy forgets to make reservations for, and has to make them at the last minute, and all he can get is a table too near to the bathrooms. It's the day when lovers are supposed to wear red-heart underwear. You know the day.

I have always had TERRIBLE those days (exception: last year- it was delightful because my lovely friends J and A came over and we watched Moulin Rouge and were silly - but that's a whole other kind of love...). Once, I was dumped on... that day. On another, the guy I was with was VERY proud of himself for fishing a warm Hershey's kiss out of his pocket as an acknowledgement of our love. On yet another occasion I was told by the boy I liked that I he couldn't like me because... well let's just say that he listed some of my flaws and it was mean.
Bad. Times.

Now, I do not expect much. In fact, I don't really expect anything. Maybe some togetherness. A bit of steamy lovin'. But I don't need expensive presents, or dinner, or the red-heart undies. I just want that day not to suck, and to spend it with the man I totally dig.

So, I have big plans with the man (have I told you about him? He's so fine). We will hang out. Order in some pizza. Maybe Netflix a good movie, run through a board game or two, and then, well, none of your business. I hope. I will also make cookies. I think chocolate chip cookies say "LOVE", no?

Wish me luck. It may be asking the heavens a bit too much to expect that they won't rain down the misery. Perhaps he'll realize he's gay, or that he can only be happy living in Turkmenistan, or that pizza wouldn't do my figure any favors. We'll see. I'll report back.

Anyway, here's to a superb that day for all of you.