I don’t have a lot of romantic Valentine’s Day stories. That’s because I usually try to break-up with girlfriends around birthdays and holidays.
Hey, don’t laugh. I’ve managed to save a ton of money over the years using this method. And by save, I mean blew at the track.
But one year in college I met this girl right before the lover’s holiday. She seemed normal. You know, except for the Rick Springfield posters plastered on every square inch of her dorm room wall.
Anyway, I invited her over for a VD dinner. I baked some pre-packaged chicken cordon bleu, complimented with two bottles of Mad Dog 20/20.
What’s even better is I passed the entrée off as homemade, and poured the Mad Dog into an empty bottle of a more desirable wine. I think it was Riunite.
Don’t judge. Just let me finish. That’s what she said.
“I had no idea you were such a great cook,” she said during dinner.
“Oh, it was nothing, but thanks. More wine?”
“Yes, please. This wine is wonderful.”
I’m not going to say what was served for desert. But I’m glad I had added whipped cream to the shopping list.
Fast forward three days…
I was able to avoid contact by ignoring phone calls, and not going near her dorm.
I know – what a dick. Did I mention the Rick Springfield posters?
And then later that night – BAM! There she was – standing on my doorstep.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked.
“Sure, come in.” I replied.
We walked into my bedroom where she began to cry.
“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls?”
“I’ve been busy studying for a couple of tests, and working on a computer lab project.”
Liar, liar, penis on fire.
“Well, I need to tell you something,” she mumbled in between sobs.
“What is it?”
“I had a miscarriage.”
Okay, let me stop right here. I’m no vagina doctor, but I’m pretty sure women can’t get pregnant and then lose a baby – in 3 days!
In addition, I’m 99% certain my boys can’t swim. Either that or I’m the luckiest SOB to ever walk a college campus.
I just gave her a big hug, and told her I was sorry. And then I walked her crazy ass to the door.
What a whack job.
Hey, remind me to tell you about the time a chick shredded my Bon Jovi cassette tape into little pieces – and then threw it on my porch with an evil note.
Never mind. I’ll remember.
You need coolin’. Baby I’m not foolin’. I’m gonna send ya, back to schoolin’.