Isn't he romantic

Sunday noonish, telephone rings. It's him. Conversation ensues, some - yes, perhaps most - of it about the previous night's outing with the ex-girlfriend to an engagement party (come on people, does that not sound like a date?). Sparked not by bitterness or resentment, jealousy or fury, just common curiosity. Then.

Him: "What are you doing on Tuesday?"
Me: "Tuesday? What?"
Him: "Are you doing anything Tuesday night?"
Me: "Huh? No, why? OHHHH, because of Valentine's Day?"
Him: "It just seems like we should do something, like have dinner."
Me: "Okay."
Him: "Okay. You pick the place."
Me: "Uhm, okay I guess."
Him: "And nothing fancy, because I would have had to have made reservations in December for anything upscale."
Me: "Okay. How about Kate's Joint?"
Him: "Kate's it is."

You can imagine the excitement and anticipation welling up inside me. Tonight I will be buffing my feet, doing my nails, administering a bikini wax, tweezing my eyebrows, slathering myself in aromatic body lotion and conditioning my hair. Perhaps I will buy Cosmo and get some last-minute tips on the best ways to surprise your man in bed. I mean, if that invitation doesn't spawn this activity, what would?

He's so romantic.

gertrude