Chocolate
I did something different for Valentine’s Day this year. If you recall, last year I made a fancy dinner with wine pairings and the works. This year, we went out. First, we went to the ballet, where they were doing a special Cole Porter "romance" night — it was a fun show, and I love Cole Porter, so that made up for the bit where they lost our tickets and we had to stand at the box office fucking around for fifteen minutes while they figured out what was going on. A lady I’ve worked with in other productions (back in pre-history when the earth was still young) was in the troupe, which was a nice surprise.
After the show, we went up the street a bit for dancing and a chocolate buffet; due to an allergy, I was regrettfully unable to partake of the dancing, but I certainly tried the chocolate. Man, they had everything — dark and white fondue with marshmallows, strawberries, pineapple, and pretzels, brownies, red velvet cake, chocolate-dipped cookies, petits fours, mousse, parfait, eclairs, you name it. They even had goddamn M&Ms. If you have a wife or fiancee or girlfriend or indentured servant or whatever, take her to one of these things sometime. It will be your only opportunity to hear her say she can’t eat any more chocolate.
And you can sip your tisane and eat your petits fours and feel like a complete fag. Bonus!
