SHAFTWAXER

This is the part where I normally rage against the machine with my ranting and raving acerbic self. Not today. Come back some other day, I’m sure I’ll be back to pissing and moaning about the decidedly lackluster speech Herr Bush made Tuesday night to inform us about his stellar exit strategy for Iraq or about how Karl Rove is a flaming pile of horse shit that doesn’t even deserve me pissing on the fire to put it out, especially after his blatant insinuations that liberals didn’t want justice after 9/11.

Nope, not today.

Instead, I’m going to talk about last Wednesday. Wednesday was the woman’s birthday. Normally, I’m not really all that worked up about birthdays, especially my own. On my birthday, I usually go into hiding and lay low. For some reason, I was way more into her birthday than I normally am. And, I guess from her perspective, that’s pretty good. Kinda works out better that way, ya know?

She didn’t know what we would be up to, so she had to put up with just going along with it, waiting to see where we ended up next. All she knew was that we were going to get food and probably hit some other place I was pretty sure she had never been. We started at her place where I delivered her some cookies that I bad baked that afternoon. See? I’m domestic and house broken already. I could have made dinner for her too, but I’ve already kinda blown that one. Some say you should hold off on cooking for the woman as long as you can so it seems special and more romantic. Yeah, I blew that, I’ve cooked for her for years now. I also gave her a single rose, a rather interesting shade of red that was bordering on orange. Fun fact: the water cups that they give you to put on the end of roses… yeah, it’s best if you don’t get one that has already been filled to the max. Think about it, you shove in the bottom of the flower, the excess water has to go somewhere… In my case, that somewhere would be on me.

For food, we wandered off to Carrabba’s. Only the second time I had been there, and now that I think of it, I’ve gotten the same thing both times. But damn, if the manicotti isn’t to die for. There, we learned that no matter what I though, I really didn’t want anything to drink. I mean, just ask the server, she knew better than I did. No matter how many times I would think about trying to snag a drink… nah. Or maybe it was the anticipation. She was holding out on me so that when I finally was graced with my glass of wine, I wanted it BAD. We also learned that all old people smell like Vic’s Vap-O-Rub or Ben Gay. Period. No exceptions.

From here, we wandered downtown to The Amway Grand. One elevator ride up to the 28th floor and we were looking out at the sun setting over the city at Cygnus. Our server was way cool. I was also pleased that my prediction that she had never been here before worked out. She looked pretty happy. We talked while the sun went down, watching the city go from dusk to street lights.

That wasn’t it, though. I had one more trick up my sleeve. She knew that we might end up going one more place, she just didn’t know that it literally was right under her nose. Back on the 1st floor, we wandered outside to the footbridge that crosses the Grand River and connects to the Ford Museum. Aside from looking out at the river and the lights along all the bridges, we also were treated to watching the police enforce a curfew of the park by watching them drive off the sidewalk, up a hill, and SHINE THEIR LIGHTS ON PEOPLE SITTING ON PARK BENCHES WHILE YELLING OVER THEIR INTERCOM. Very discrete.

Plum tuckered out, we went back to her place and took care of the whole gift exchange bit (i.e. exchange the gifts for her undying gratification) I like doing this thing for gifts where I get somebody something that’s practical yet not something that they thought to ask for, but still will be something that they will be really glad they got. To me, the implication there is that it shows that I listen, I pay attention, and that I legitimately put thought into it. I think I managed to pull that one off with an ear piece for her cell phone, handy for her long car trips. She also pointed out that it meant that I was going to have to talk to her on the phone while she was driving now. I threatened to return the gift, but she had somehow already grown rather attached to it. I had also threatened to just wrap up a box of styrofoam peanuts that had been sitting in my living room from a delivery that had been made to my apartment. I kept to my word and wrapped that bad boy up. I also just happened to include a couple of cute yet appropriately girly gifts courtesy of our good friends at the Yankee Candle Company.

In the end, it all worked out really well. She looked damn good, and I managed to get the ridiculously giddy smile out of her often through the night. It was worth it.

Next year I think I’ll top it by taking her to the McDonald’s of her choice. My treat!