Friday, February 13, 2009

je t'aime

One.

That's the number of times I've actually gone on a date for Valentine's Day.

Let's jump all the way back to 2001. I spent V-Day with my first real boyfriend, Scott. We'd shared our first kiss at a dance and then a week later went on our first date and became "official". Scott asked me to be his girlfriend while making out in his Buick, after he'd spit his gum into my hair. It was a magical moment, as you can imagine. On Valentine's Day, he probably gave me the required stuffed animal and a Whitman's chocolate sampler, but to be honest, I don't really remember. Scott was my first love, and seven years later, I still look back on that night, and the entire relationship, with fond affection.

Okay, sappy Jessie is leaving now and is being replaced with her binge-drinking and exponentially more fun twin.

Not every Valentine's Day since 2001 has been depressing. Far from it. My senior year, I spent it with my best friend Danielle. We cuddled, ate a disgusting amount of chocolate, and watched Charmed. The way I see it, there's really no point in being especially depressed on Valentine's Day, especially when I've been single for the 364 days prior.

So this year, I will be spending February 14th with six of my very good girlfriends in Montreal. The fact that these girls are willing to road trip 300+ miles to Canada in the middle of February for an early 25th birthday celebration proves their love for me, don't you think? The last time I was in Montreal was in February of 2007. I spent part of my 23rd birthday weekend in a bar called "Cock n' Bull" (so fitting), drinking a pitcher of beer with a straw and wearing a ridiculous sombrero. Later that night, we dared our friend to strip down to her underwear in the elevator and run to the room. And she did.

The plan for this weekend is to do a little shopping, drink lots of alcohol, talk to (and possibly make out with) some French Canadians, and eat poutine until our pants become uncomfortably tight. Also, I wouldn't be surprised if at some point one of my friends licks a stranger, tries to pull a pay phone off its cord, or ends up falling and laying in the middle of the street.

So, au revoir mon petit chou (probably my favorite french saying ever!). I hope to have many embarrassing and hilarious stories to share when I get back on Monday evening.

2 comments:

Robin said...

you make me pee. i need to come back to boston asap. its clear. ill bring all my funny hats.

jessie said...

Yes please!!