ExposedNYC

I’ve always thought of Valentine’s Day much more prone to bad luck than any other day. I’ve tried all kinds of remedies- treating myself to something nice, hanging out with girlfriends, but somehow it always ends in disaster. This year I decide to pretend that it wasn’t even happening.

Last night at midnight- being Doll’s last night and all- she, Spike and I toasted to ignoring Valentine’s Day; each for our own reasons. I woke up, went to work thinking everything was fine until two steps off of the train I realized I’d forgotten my umbrella. So I started this joyous day of love feeling like a snow cone was thrown in my face as the wind pelted me with frozen rain.

I managed to get through the entire work day and honestly forgot it was anything special. If anyone asked what my plans were, I responded that I had a hot date with Sawyer. Except for my lunch taking an hour to be delivered, which I attributed to snow, things were going OK. My only reminder was when my new co-worker’s boyfriend showed up with hot chocolate and sweets, which I respect as a thoughtful gesture and was only slightly nauseated.

So, I got off work and headed to Queens to meet my favorite gay boyfriend and his fantastically self-deprecating roommates for a LOST viewing party. I of course didn’t realize that the 7 train runs both local and express, so I missed my stop, trekked through slush to turn around, and headed back the other way.

Upon arrival, we all decided that it was too cold to leave the house again for food, so we ordered pizza. We popped open a bottle of champagne I had brought over, because I’ll be festive for any reason over champagne, and settled into the couches to wait for our pizza. And wait. And wait some more. At one hour we called and were told the delivery guy had just left. At one hour and forty-five minutes he showed up.

We cursed the day and tipped him all the same for braving the snow, settled in to a great episode, and then I bid them all good night. I was grateful that the night was over, but no, there was more. The subways are never running normally when you’re tired after a long day, so I transferred three times just to get home. And when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I gave myself a paper cut on my lip shutting the Glamour magazine that was keeping me entertained.

I’m telling you the day is cursed, and a fat little baby with wings and a bow and arrow took revenge on me for not acknowledging it. Next year I’m not getting out of bed.

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