by user | March 17, 2005 4:52 pm
With Valentine’s Day just so recently behind us, I decided this week to tackle the subject of love. I was sitting at my stool the other night and watching the young girls, like I usually do. Many of them were flying solo, preferring the comfort of a close female friend and a bottle of Smirnoff Ice to the calloused hand of a broad shouldered man and the smell of his cologne getting all over her clothes. So many of them seemed happy, I mean genuinely happy, like kids playing duck, duck, goose for the first time and sitting there filled with anticipation of that burst of energy that would spring them from their cross-legged position into action, trying to catch the kid who tapped them, yelled goose, and then ran around the circle trying to get back to the empty spot on the gym floor before he or she was tagged. There was something genuine, more genuine than if I had seen them with some guy, that was hanging in the air amongst the single women in the bar that night.
The single men were drunk by 9:30. They patted each other’s backs and stared longingly at the women, wondering how long it would take each one of them, as an individual, to get each girl in the group of single women naked, making out with one another, and then screwing him silly before he had to go to work the next morning. They made attempts to break into the groups of girls; offering to buy drinks, asking for phone numbers, pretending that their buddy behind them pushed them so they could A) cop a feel of leg, breast, or ass and B) look macho when they told a guy off (who they had known since grade school). There was nothing genuine about the men.
So how do I know, when I return to the bar after my hockey game on Valentine’s Day, that I will see men and women who genuinely love one another if, when on their own, they are so different? I know because love is that drug we become addicted to the first time we kiss someone we think we love. It is that innocence of a first loving kiss, and the loss of that innocence all at the same time. It’s electric; a moment when we realize everything we thought a first kiss should be couldn’t even measure up to what it really was.
On Valentine’s Day, the single women will have found a single man, and the date might go poorly, and they might spend too much money, and they might not get everything out of the date that they had hoped they would get (lesbian sexcapades being near the top of the men’s list), but the moment they realize they are with someone on Valentine’s Day…there will be something genuine in the air between men and women. It will be a moment when I glance around the room and realize that, even the people who are miserable on their date, will still, even after the griping and bitching about how awful the date was, be happy that they were with someone and not without.
Enjoy the moment. It may seem imperfect, contrived, unnatural at some basic, hormonal level…but it will be a moment to realize that there is something genuine and fun about love and fun about what brings two completely opposite sexes together. Then bring two of your sexiest girlfriends down to the end of the bar, get naked, and make out for me.
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