February
13th, 2006
Roses
are red.
Violets are blue.
I'll die alone.
You probably will, too.
-Graham Mutch
You have
my permission to use that in all your valentines and wedding
toasts. Having said that, I'll understand if you're surprised
to learn that, beneath the wounded cynicism and several layers
of pizza fat, I'm actually a diehard romantic. An I-saw-The-English-Patient-six-times-and-it-made-me-cry
romantic.
Jamie and
I had very different experiences during our formative adolescent
years. Being the drummer in a popular band, Jamie was to sexual
conquests as Cortés was to the Aztecs. Whereas I, having
memorized the core rules for Basic and Advanced Dungeons
& Dragons, could have cut off my hand and counted my partners
on the stump. I wouldn't have, though. I really needed
that hand.
When I was
seventeen, I fell in love with a girl in my acting class. She
was brilliant, beautiful and funny. I wooed her with witty banter
that was, in retrospect, almost certainly sexual harassment.
I wrote poems about her. Really, really bad poems about the
apple-strawberry scent of her hair. Her hair didn't even smell
fruity. I just thought it made for a better poem.
Today, she's
an Account Director working in the same city I do, though we've
never worked together. Also, I'm still in love with her.
Happy
Valentine's Day.
-Graham
P.S. Thanks
to everyone who's voted
for us! It fluctuates, but we peaked at #32 out of 2000. Whoo
hoo!
