Ok, so yesterday was sad for me. You'd think I would be sad merely because I was lonely, with no 'significant other' to hold and whisper sweet nothings.
Well ok, that'd be right. You see, last year I had the opportunity to take the most extraordinary young lady to dinner. I was so funny the day before -setting up reservations at a beautiful, cozy little jazz restaruant; finding the right present that wasn't too 'romantic,' but showed some thought. Some people probably would have called it "cute."
The night was wonderful. Beautiful weather; divine food; walking down a historic uptown street in the crisp night air, up too a 150 year old house, turned restaurant; hearing the soulful sounds of the piano drift ruminantly out of the open door. I was in my element.
You see I love to do nice things for people. Spend money on them, make them feel special, send flowers for no reason, say nice things. That's why last night started out particularly sad. For after all the effort of that long lost Valentine's Day, I neglected the most important part of any relationship. (aside to all the guys who's girlfriends are really really mad at them all the time.....how often do you call her....it's not enough). I went for one ENTIRE week without calling. Needless to say, she was ticked.
Now, she's marrying a wonderful guy. I'm still single and drowning my singleness blues in the dolefull tunes of BB King and Robert Johnson.
My evening wasn't a total waste though. I decided to stop off at the mall and pick up some Godiva chocolates for my step-mommy and a stuffed giraffe with some lemon cookies for my sister. I'm glad I got to make someone feel nice on V-Day.
I think, though, that Shakespeare knew what I was going through:
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:
Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,
Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;
Resembling sire and child and happy mother,
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing:
Whose speechless song being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: 'Thou single wilt prove none.'
(Sonnet VIII)
