This day confuses me. What is the correlation between a beheaded priest and sending flowers and chocolates to someone you love? And when you try to give a more appropriate gift, people call the gendarmes. Society truly confuses me sometimes.
Anyway, the general consensus is that this is a day for romance. I think of myself as a romantic, but despite my reputation of being a "stunning sexual master" (I'm not sure who exactly said that or what they were snorting at the time), I have never really had anyone to share this day with. Sure, I have my mannequin, but it's just not the same, as I'm sure you can understand. I am one who loves deeply and completely. Some call it stalking. I prefer to think of it as devotion.
But as much as it pains me to say, I'm not sure there will ever be anything between Christine and me again. She is completely devoted to the Vicomte and even these rumors of a liason between himself and the American actress will not shake her faith. And all my efforts to comfort her have been rebuffed. I'm not sure if she feels I am attempting to take advantage of the situation or if she simply does not want to be reminded of it more than she already is due to the paparazzi's constant harassment.
So what is a older man like myself supposed to do? I might not be the best catch, but I think I'm okay.
I enjoy the theatre.
I enjoy candlelight.
I enjoy fine wines.
I own a fully-furnished lakeside property.
I have a lavish (if somewhat lethal) home-entertainment system.
Perhaps I should place an ad in the local newspaper's Singles section.
Your obedient servant,
O.G.
I would just like to clarify...
14 years ago
2 comments:
Well, if it makes you feel any better, I spent Valentine's Day in a remote animal husbandry office in rural northern Xinjiang with an elderly Kazakh who kept trying to set me up with his son. I would have much prefered an evening by the lake, mirrored chamber with iron tree and all. With any luck, the Vicomte de Chagngelina will be announcing a pregnancy and Christine will come to her senses.
It still sounds infinitely better than my day, child, which consisted mostly of me cleaning up melted wax around the lair. I really should invest in those dripless ones someday.
Your obedient friend,
O.G.
Post a Comment