Heart Shaped Cheese

I've been in hiding because, let's face it, things have been going pretty well.  It COULD be perhaps, that his shoes were too tight.  It COULD be perhaps because the future little Missus has been out of town for a month.

Seeing how today is the most commercially romantic day of the year, I figured I could no longer sit in silence.  I've somehow managed to draw both the shortest and longest straw at once, because while Valentine's Day means a great deal to my lady, she still says convention is bologna.  So most V-Days we sit on the couch watching movies like The Strangers, eating cheese and drinking wine.  Because nothing says romance like terrified, drunken constipation.  A lot of chaps choose to make their big sweeping romantic gestures -- proposals and whatnot -- today.  Today is pretty magical.  How else can we account for eating those little candy hearts?  The poor man's fortune cookies.

Let's face it though, there's enough romance in this relationship to fill a small kiddie pool with enough stagnant water to create a breeding ground for some pretty vicious mosquitos.  West Nile Love.  And while most people equate their initial feelings of love to butterflies in their stomach, I hate butterflies.  Don't be fooled by their wings, people.  Their bodies are disgusting.

And in short, I was afraid.

So what fluttering feelings did I feel in my stomach when I first met the bride?  Here's the true story of how we met:  I ran into her at a bar one night, and apparently I had just gotten a haircut, as she said to me, "Hey, you got a haircut."  Or something.  To which I replied, "I don't even talk to you."  The end.

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