I started planning for Valentine's Day a little early this year. I figured that at the rate I usually work, in order to have a date by the 14th I would need to start my hunt by late October.
My strategy was to start out by hanging around a few of the middle schools in the greater Durham area and gradually work my way up the ranks. I was making decent progress come December and had a few possible prospects in mind, when one magical night it all fell into place.
She was volunteering as an usher for the Carrington Middle School seventh-grade Christmas pageant. Her name was Emily, she was a freshman on the Duke swim team and she looked like God's gift to man. Had we gotten into a fist fight at some point, she would probably have had odds close to 12-1. Most of that night was a blur, but somehow we left with plans to grab a bite to eat the following Friday night.
Admittedly, I was a little nervous. It would be my first official date with a girl. Getting ready that night, I wasn't going to leave anything to question. I was well acquainted with Murphy's Law from numerous encounters in the past. Tonight was going to be different. I managed to stay one step ahead of Murphy the entire evening, until at the last minute when he delivered one devastatingly low blow.
My lucky Superman underpants were dirty. I had used them on Tuesday for a math test and had not planned to need them again until Parcheesi club next Monday night.
With less than 20 minutes until game time, I tried not to panic. But I knew damn well that an ordinary pair of Fruit of the Loom would only do more harm than good. I tried to think of all my options. Trust me when I say that Febreze alone wouldn't do Superman justice tonight. I was forced to make an executive decision. As I headed out that night, the only thing between me and the world was a thin layer of gabardine.
That night at the Marketplace things didn't go too smoothly. I was refused service because of a personal vendetta with the lady swiping cards at the entrance (formerly the stir-fry lady). Because I didn't want to cause a scene, Emily and I instead decided to order in Dragon Gate back at my room.
As I opened the door to my room I could tell she was impressed by the candles and the subtle sound of Barry Manilow in the background playing in the background. I knew that time was a factor as my roommate Eduardo was scheduled to wake up any minute for his weekly trip to Costco to restock on tiki torch fluid and salsa. I decided not to mess around and to go straight for the big one. I went into my closet and came out holding my most prized possession-an original 1897 Erlenmeyer flask.
Apparently she had thought that I was joking when I had told her about my rare antique chemistry beaker collection. Her jaw dropped. I looked at her and she looked straight back at me.
She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. I knew exactly what she was waiting for. Without wasting another second, I ripped my pants off as if Coach K had just called my number to check into the game. They weren't tear-aways or anything; I just ripped apart the fabric. Almost immediately she ran out the door.
I followed her for about a mile and a half before I got tired and decided to hop on a C-1. It was cold that night, evident by the constant snickers I was getting the entire bus ride back. I began to realize that even an ordinary pair of Fruit of the Loom would've been a better idea.
Even though we haven't spoken since (she actually transferred to UVA the next week), I feel like Emily taught me a lot. While it's good to take chances, it's also important to pick up on the subtle hints that may tell you you're doing something stupid. But then again, that's the reason why Valentine's Day is my favorite holiday: there's always a next year.
Nick Alexander is a Pratt sophomore. His column runs every other Tuesday.
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