mind over mojo

When he emailed me Friday afternoon and asked if I would be his valentine, I said yes. (Actually, I said YES!!! Why mask my enthusiasm?)

I spent my Valentine’s Day recovering from Friday night’s experience with reckless abandon and about three too many mojitos. It’s all sort of patchy, but I had to applaud myself when I woke up Saturday morning in my own bed. Alone. Because really, from the way the previous night had been going, it was quite a feat of mind over mojo.

I cat napped all afternoon, finally putting in a couple of hours of work when the constant nightmares about my current deadline wouldn’t let me ignore it any longer. I ordered Thai food and tried to decide which short black skirt to go out in. I settled on jeans. Afterall, it was my valentine’s day, and who was I trying to impress? My Valentiness already love me.

Thge four of us hung in for a few hours and then made our way to a local college bar (read: Frat Daddy Infestation) where I sat looking out at the crowd thinking, “THIS is what’s out there? No wonder I don’t go trolling.” The one good thing about a room full of over-confident, preppy boys is that you start to feel really satisfied about being single.

I mean, it’s a little hard to feel sorry for yourself when you’re too busy feeling sorry for several dozen jokers with upturned collars on their Izods. Freaks.