"Happy Valentines Day, Poseidon!" I practically scream this, with my hands in the air as I smile. My cat remains on my kitchen counter blinking slowly at me. I'm proud to say I am NOT the cat lady. Not yet anyway. I have just the one, and on this Valentine's Day he's the only man I want in my life.
"Ok, so technically Valentine's day is still a bit off." I say, giving Poseidon a half smile. My eyes look up to my microwave; it's 9 pm. I grab my cat's wet food and he seems far more excited about Valentine's Day now.
I grab my bottle of white wine and shuffle off to my cat's bowl. I manage to cradle the unopened bottle under my arm and open the sea food medley can. Poseidon practically knocks me over to get at it.
Even while he eats, Poseidon still manages to give my bunny slippers a proper hiss. I'll never understand why he hates them so much. My large black night shirt goes to my knees, and the raggedy black bunnies on my feet bring the whole ensemble together. I look for my wine glass. This was NOT my first bottle of wine. In my defense, the first bottle was half empty, having fueled my pink, red, and white flurry of motion throughout the day as I got ready for tonight. My entire house is decorated. Heart streamers and heart confetti mingled with fake rose petals hang from all the walls and doors. Poseidon loved the vanilla scented candles and I had to put them away before he got burned trying to eat one.
Opening my bottle of wine and making a heavy pour of it into my glass is a little bit of a task. Tipsy and bitter, I know I have to slow down. Six months single from a cheating ex fiancé, you wouldn't think I'd want anything to do with this holiday.
I got home at 3 pm today. After work I kicked off my heels, and started drinking and decorating. I was pretty sure this was going to be an epic Valentine's Day. The knocking on the door was all I needed to pick up my spirits. "Coming!!" Poseidon, still licking his chops, makes it to the door before me. "Don't be rude, let them in Poseidon!" My cat just looks at me blinking; my humor is often lost on him.
I open the door to two of the most awesome people I know. My friend Bridget, decked out in a silk nightie, holds up two bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. My other friend, Amber, standing in a long-sleeve shirt and pants with teddy bears, holds up some DVDs and more wine.
All of my self-pity flies out the window as I hug my friends. Bridget says, shivering, "For fuck sake Julie let me in, my tits are freezing off!" Her silk covering could BARELY pass as a slutty dress; it was how Bridget functioned. She was hot and she knew it. She was also permanently single and very happy for it.
Amber shakes her head. "Bridget went into Walmart looking like that."
I take the wine from my friends,laughing. "That's nothing Amber, trust me."
I close the door behind them as Poseidon attempts to trip up my guests. Both woman bend down to him, knowing they have to dote on Poseidon if they want to get anywhere in my house. An all black long hair cat, he is a needy, self centered, fluff ball.
I've known Bridget for five years. Amber, I've only been friends with for a few months but we became instant friends as soon as we met. She's younger than my 29 years, 24 I think, but has a great head on her shoulders. We actually met at a yoga retreat. Bridget had insisted she wanted to go on one for her 25th birthday.
I say her 25th but it will be her 25th when she's 40. I'm two years younger than Bridget. You can't tell by looking at us. If she said she was 25 you'd believe her without batting an eye. If I said it you'd pat my hand, if I'm lucky, and play along.I'm, almost, always honest about my age.
Amber's husband, Dominic, is in the military and she joined the retreat trying to make friends while her husband was overseas. She was so timid and shy, completely unlike Bridget and me. Just as one quick example, Bridget showed up in her bikini to do yoga when she found out how hot the instructor was.
Amber and I were laughing the whole time; I knew she was a kindred spirit when she started to pretend along with us that Bridget needed hands-on instructions. She was Bridget's wing woman at the retreat and, later, my shoulder to cry on when I had to get the last of my stuff from my ex's place.
Bridget is my best friend but has never been very supportive in the dealing-with-an-ex-category. She's more of a "love and let go" kind of person. "If I'm spending my Valentine's Day with you guys then I expect you to tell me ALL the stories" Amber says as she grabs her glass. She motions for me to fill it but I hug my bottle to myself, sticking out my tongue.
"There isn't enough time for that nonsense." Bridget says, waving us out of her way. "We have to decide the important shit." She holds up two DVDs. "Who do we drool over first? Indiana Jones or Die Hard?"
She's right. That is the most important part. I watch as Amber fills her glass with my wine, which I'd eventually forked over, albeit reluctantly. She sets it down though. "You guys decide. We are watching both, so I don't care which is first. I have to pee first. And don't forget!"
Before she can finish her sentence Bridget and I do it for her "You have a Skype date." We laugh as Amber rolls her eyes and walks away. She has told me a few times where Dominic is stationed overseas but I always forget. The two of them were high school sweethearts, so it's really tough on them to be so far apart, and for so long. Once a week they get together on Skype and chat it up.
The way she talks about her husband would be almost unbelievable if you couldn't see the love in her eyes. I witnessed the end of a Skype date once, where he spoke to her so lovingly It was almost painful to watch.
Amber firmly believed that she could look at other men all she wanted, as long as she never touched, and said the same applied to him. She even admitted sending porn to her husband to give him variety. The two of them were perfect for each other. That didn't make the sting of being without each other on V-Day any easier.
Bridget had decided on this Valentine's Day celebration last week. Her latest fling admitted he couldn't take her out because his wife wanted to do something. Tonight is supposed to be all the best parts of Valentine's Day, with none of the bad. So, we're going to booze it up and gorge on chocolate.
The rules are simple: if someone starts crying, the others shove chocolate at them and make them stop. No sad talk and no cell phones; I left mine in my car. I'm not taking any chances on a drunk dial from my asshole ex.
Amber didn't have hers because she said there was no way they were paying that long distance bill. If Bridget's gown wasn't so thin I'd have questioned whether she had hers or not. She was never far from her phone. Amber came back from the bathroom and we all piled onto my oversized sectional couch.
Three hours later we were starting to get stupid. "No! I'm telling you, you're supposed to have the chocolate in your mouth, like under your tongue and swish the wine over it." I realize as I say this that I sound far too defensive for this topic. Die Hard is playing on mute in the background. We had a book on "wine pairing" and we were shoving chocolate in our mouth mixing it with different red wines.
Amber hiccups and giggles shaking her head "I'll choke on the chocolate!"
I stare her over. She looks even younger sitting there tipsy, trying to read the book. She has mousy blond hair that goes to about her shoulders. It frames her heart-shaped face. She has kind of small, silver-blue eyes. She's pretty and thin. She had a lot of complaints about her looks. I know it doesn't help when standing next to Bridget. I have a lot of complaints about my body when I stand next to Bridget too.
