Good morning, lovers.
So today is Valentine's day. A day of gooey love and affection. A day when you are almost assured to get lucky.
I've never been big into the whole Valentine's day thing ( I know I'm a total buzz kill) I've always thought that if you love someone you tell them everyday, you celebrate it everyday and not just when a naked baby tells you to. That being said the Coach and I determined pretty early on in our marriage to just ignore Valentine's day because it's right on the heels of our anniversary which is directly after Christmas and how many months in a row can you come up with a mind-blowing gift idea that says I totally love you more then anything in the world, as a matter of fact I love you so much that it makes others nauseous. It's not as easy as it sounds.
In spite of our anti-Valentine marriage, we decided to take advantage of not having the kids last night so we went out for dinner. We checked out the Cheesecake Factory. Everyone always says it's so good but we've never been. First we didn't get there until like 7:30 and then had to wait an hour, by the time they sat us down I think the Coach, who'd eaten a bagel and two chicken wings all day, considered eating the table but they brought out some bread and the table was spared. I decided to skip the bread and table and headed straight for the booze. Trouble. I'll say it again, Trouble. I only had two drinks but since all I'd eaten all day was Cookie Crisp and I could only manage to finish like a third of my meal, two was all I needed.
The combo of my tingly buzz, no kids or carseats to remind me I had kids and oddly enough that neither of us were wearing our wedding rings fooled me into believing I was 20 again and by the time we got home a majority of my clothes were strewn all around the car. (seriously what is wrong with me?)
I'm fairly confident that if you were to asked the Coach if he thought that Friday the thirteenth was unlucky he'd say no.