Let's talk about love, shall we? Some years ago I was (un)fortunate enough to come across this rather cool chick who struck my fancy. It wasn't long before she overcame her initial shyness and proceeded to seek my attention. This, I gave freely. Stupid, stupid me.
We hung out together for a few weeks and, with one thing leading to another, it wasn't long before we found ourselves in bed. It never perturbed me that all of our lusty rendevous' were during the day (sex does that to a guy) until it was too late. Stupid, stupid me.
One day, while we were exploring the limitless horizon's of one another's soul (well . . . okay, fucking), the door suddenly crashed open and in walked her husband. Husband, you say? I don't remember you mentioning anything about a husband? Well, neither did she, until of course, I was buck-naked in mid-stroke with the dude right outside the bedroom door. I was not happy. I managed to escape with my life and genitalia intact (barely) and I made a mental note not to hang out with this chick anymore.
Unfortunately, she had different plans. As Valentine's Day grew closer, her calls became more and more frequent as she saw the need to explain in great detail how desperately she wanted to spend this "special" holiday with me. She had even devised a plan on how we could spend this time together without interruption. This was the scary part. It seems she had bought a gun and was planning to murder her husband so that we could be together forever. What's funny about this story, you ask? Not a goddamned thing! (Hee-hee. --Ed) Anyway, I finally managed to talk her out of it by seeing her one last time, despite my better judgement. I hope her husband realizes what I did for him. (I would hope he doesn't realize! --Ed) So, here's the moral to the story and a little advice too: Valentine's Day is for psychos and flower companies; stay away from it if you can.
