Why not, you ask?
Well, because we are extremely lazy people who would rather sit on our duffs all day long watching the children do battle with one another, and scream things like, "I hate you!" "No, I hate YOU!!".
We are the kind of people who were not able to decide what to do. The fact that "Milly" had waterpolo made the decision-making process that much more difficult and prolonged.
You see, with waterpolo comes the drive to and from waterpolo, as well as the time constraint involved with said waterpolo. What we thought might be fun would be going out for dinner and a movie. However, Mr. Handsome thought that might be boring. As well, he pointed out that it wouldn't work very well, with Milly's waterpolo game and all.
I was feeling really rotten that day too. What else is new, you ask? I ask myself this question every single day. But, enough about me.
I then suggested, rather wanly too, I might add, since I was feeling rather weak and unsteady, that maybe we could go out Sunday evening instead. But no, Mr. Handsome would have none of that. He actually said that. "I will have none of that, missy!" he said to me, wagging his index finger in that manly way he has that just turns me all into mush and makes me want to jump him.
So, being the good and obedient wife that I am, we did as he desired. First, we dropped Milly off at her waterpolo game. Then, we drove down to the old part of town, the "Byward Market" as it's called, parked the car in the dark nearby the prostitutes' corner, and started walking. Where? We didn't know. All we knew is we were together and that's all that mattered.
Hand-in-hand we walked, until we could no longer feel our hands. It's cold here in February.
So, after perusing about 1,034 different restaurants, bars, hang-outs and dark stairwells, we ended up at this cute little place called "Oh So Good!". They only serve desserts and special teas and coffees here, which we thought would be just perfect. So in we went.
It was a strange place, with wood walls, very dramatic art hanging here and there, and rickety plastic tables and chairs. And the servers did not have good clothing sense. The lone male waiter had pants that hung below his knees, and he waddled like he had just done a shadoodie in his pantaloons, and a couple of the female servers had skirts that did not hide a thing, and tops that rode halfway up to Ireland. But I digress yet again.
What it was lacking in decor, it more than made up for in food. Oh my god, the food. The cakes, the tarts, the tortes, the pies...I was definitely in heaven. And Mr. Handsome knew it. Because if there's one way to my heart, it's with a visit to the Market and a nice slice of cheesecake.
Which is what I had. It looked something like this, but the taste...out of this world. Psychedelic, man. Groovy even. I chose the caramel pecan cheesecake, along with a chai tea latte. Both very good choices, I must say. I don't remember what Mr. Handsome ordered. I do remember mine was better.
About halfway through this amazing moment in time with my husband, my love, my Valentine, I became very nauseated. I don't think it was the company, or the food. It was just me, being sick again. Nothing new. So, I went to the bathroom, which was very untidy and quite dirty, and hoped that if I was going to be sick, it would be quick and dirty, because I still had cheesecake and latte waiting for me.
I peed instead. That's it. My body would not co-operate. Instead, it laughed at me. Openly. Ridiculed me.
I tripped back to our table, where Mr. Handsome was playing with the candle, melting wax onto the table to see what happened (do you see, I can't leave him alone for a minute!). And I finished my cheesecake and my latte because when it comes to cheesecakes and lattes, I am a woman on a desert island, and nothing will stop me. Not even extreme nausea and bad lower abdominal cramping and gases trying to escape from my nethers.
Then, I quickly asked Mr. Handsome if we could leave. I needed air. He didn't want to leave because it would mean going back out in the dark, cold night, and Mr. Handsome is quite delicate, and what were we going to do for an extra half hour while we waited for Milly's waterpolo game to end and for Milly to shower, wash and deep condition her hair, and meet us outside?
What did we do, you ask? We walked back to the car, and we drove to the university where her game was, and we sat in a cold, dark car, listening to old songs on the radio, our seats tilted back, our breath fogging up the windows.
Milly eventually came out and got in the car, and we went home.
But no, that's not the end of our amazing Valentine's extravaganza! No. There's more. I know, I know. You can't take it. Well, you can. And you will.
Once Milly went to bed, Mr. Handsome and I decided it would be great to top off the day with a nice romantic movie. So, we watched Troy.
Well, it's sort of romantic, in a violent, loud sort of way. And although I'm not partial to Brad Pitt, he sure looked good to me in this here movie. Sweat. Muscles. Need I say more?
And it doesn't matter anyway, because I only watched about half an hour of it before the Benadryl and Tylenol kicked in and I was doing this
But not before Mr. Handsome so generously gave me the most wonderful, most dainty, most beautiful dark chocolate heart-shaped box filled with amazing chocolate truffles, the words "Forever Yours" painted on the the top in gold flakes. Very tasteful, just like Mr. Handsome. And I gave him some lesser quality chocolates (but still quite tasty), a box of fake rose buds that you throw in the bath and they're supposed to turn into soapy petals of bath happiness, and a really cool card.
Such was our Valentine's Day. No jetting off to Hawaii for the weekend. No smashing lobster and steak dinner and ballroom dancing. Just us. And that's all we need. That's all we'll ever need.