My Whisky Valentine

V-Day (not to be confused with VE or VJ day) is almost here and wouldn't you know it, getting engaged won't even save me from a Hungry Man meal and DVRed Craig Ferguson shows this year. No, Jessica is away "on business" in Atlanta with some other women in business suits. This year, however, I plan on embracing my loneliness in the following ways...

First, I'll stop by the local Walgreen's (fine place) and pick out the lamest box of chocolates and shittiest bouquet of flowers I can find. When checking out, I'll explain to the checkout lady that this year everything has to go perfect, so I'm "pulling out all the stops". She will then look at my paltry purchases and recognize me as a know-nothing loser, who will be wearing that box of chocolates by the end of the night. Little does she know, I'll probably end up giving them to the prettiest homeless man you can think of. The key to this step is sellin' it while I'm buyin' it. I've gotta show a genuine longing for these gifts to be well-received. Who knows, maybe she'll give me a sah-weet discount.

Next, I'll go home and get all gussied-up to go out, but not the usual shit-shower-shave routine. No, this night is special, so I'll be parting my hair and applying either bay rum or Brut aftershave (I'll decide in the moment) in offensive amounts, and donning my dad's old brown three-piece suit. The idea is to look like a sap, the kind of sap that would be stood-up on Valentine's day...

Off to restaurant number one. I will have made reservations far in advance, so getting a table won't be a problem. I'll give the server the flowers and chocolates, then ask that she present them with the entree course after my girlfriend arrives, which will be shortly. She will see the excitement on my face, and agree. From here, I will order us drinks. Hers will have to be reflective of the kind of person that would stand up their beau on this day of days- Appletini. Mine will be something full of alcohol made neat, because that is just how I roll, solo or otherwise. Thus begins the waiting game. As I sit there playing with my phone and watching "her" appletini slowly approach room temperature, I'll periodically glance at the new watch Jessica actually got me for Valentine's day and/or out the window. When enough time has gone by to be questioned, I'll give some excuse for her tardiness like, "I'm sure she just got held-up at work" or "Her car is awful in this weather." Finally, I'll blow out whatever candle is on the table, throw my napkin on my empty plate, and guzzle her appletini. Right before I tell the server that I'll be paying with a Groupon, I'll mutter under my breath, "Happy Valentine's Day Indeed".

Off to restaurant number two...

At restaurant number two (where I will have also made reservations) I'll carry on in much the same fashion as at restaurant number one, with one important difference. This time, while staring at her appletini (maybe a Fuzzy Navel this time) I will call the restaurant from my cell phone while in the Men's. I'll claim to be Mr. Wrobel's assistant, who can't reach him on his cell, as it has been turned off so as not to interrupt the special evening. The Maitre 'D will find me on my way back from the bathroom, cell phone in pocket, to inform me my assistant is on the phone with an emergency. The emergency is that my "wife" of eight years was in a fatal car accident. I will then proceed to make a scene: Hysterically crying, and running out of the restaurant without paying for my three single-malts.

The rest of the night will probably be spent sharing a bottle of whiskey at my buddy Greg's kitchen table. On second thought, I'll probably just head over there after Walgreen's...