the Feyoncé Experience

Well, I had a spectacular Valentine’s Day, thank you very much! 

In the 7 months I’d known SoHo Crush, I'd never cooked for him, and he'd since given up on hinting that I should.  So I told him I'd give him a V.D. feast.  I planned to keep it basic: baked chicken breast with onions and peppers, brown rice, a veggie.  I tried to get rosé champagne… okay I went to the nice liquor store on Broadway, and the only one they had was Dom Pérignon, so I got a sparkling rosé for about a 10^th of the price. 

After dropping by Project Runway’s apartment for a stoplight-themed party, I arrived a bit tipsy at SoHo Crush’s.  We popped the not champagne, and I got to banging pots and pans.  When everything was pretty well started, SoHo told me he had a gift for me. 

I should explain that SoHo Crush and I have a joke about pop music (which is mostly funny because he’s a 40-something-year-old white guy) that involves messing up stars’ names, for example, Danika Kane, Brihanna or Feyoncé.  I recently bought him the Feyoncé Experience, which I told him was from 2006.  He got really upset when it got to the end and we hadn’t yet seen “Single Ladies”. 

So back to the Valentine’s present: he hands me this box.

“See, she has your name on her tit!”

What a scotch-tape job!  And that blue 3-D flair!  I think I’m in love.

The creativity of the box itself was enough, but then I opened it.  It was a beautiful scarf, striped socks, and a blue flowery shirt.  I’m not so big on blue or flowers, but it was the thought that counted.  He had me try the items on.

Obviously he loved the scarf, but (thankfully) he wasn’t crazy about the shirt… to the point where he said we should return in and get something else.

We had a great dinner, which was awesome because I haven’t cooked for anyone since a guy I dated during the summer of 2004 in Maine.  We had a nationally ranked dining service at my non-Ivy League college (thank god!), so I wasn’t exactly cooking regularly (my face looks kinda chubby in Commencement photos).  And I’d never used the oven in the Brackette's apartment before (the Brackettes were my clique in Portland, Me).  Of course, I chose that night to be adventurous with the food.  Needless to say everything was off.  And the guy made fun of me.  Playfully, but it affected me nonetheless. 

*shakes head, coming back from the dream sequence*

After dinner, SoHo Crush and I polished off the bottle of wine

and cracked open a fresh box of wine (originally purchased for the Lesbian Birthday Event).  After the second glass, we both detected very strange scent.  Sort of like something burning.  The oven's off... so's the stove... “Shit!  My scarf!”  It was lying right next to a candle.  Not. So. Romantic. 

But by the time we had gotten over our hangovers the next morning, we walked over to the store, and he got me a much brighter shirt (with stripes… I’m known for my solids, so this will be an adventure) and a replacement scarf. 

Did I mention I had to get home to nap and get ready to do Greenhouse again that night?  Did I mention it was a holiday weekend?!  Yeah!

Now would be a good time to get started on that workout plan for the summer body.  Click here for motivation (i.e., a Fire Island story).  

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