Valen Times!

Happy Monday, y'all! This week we're taking on our most tragic or humorous Valentine's tales... why? Because we like the sweet delicious sting of our own personal whips beating us, I guess.

Thing is, most of mine have been good... when I've been single during it, I was never one of those grousers who were "THEY JUST INVENTED SOMETHING TO TEAR THE MONEY OUT OF YOUR POCKETS BETWEEN CHRISTMAS AND EASTER, MAN!!!". At the risk of exposing my soft underbelly here, I like celebrating it, I'm attentive all the year round but I'll play ball with this fabrication, and hey, I'm all for celebrating a little more focus on love, ya know? So I don't have any woe to share..

BUT!

I will share my most misguided and illfated date ever.

T'was December of 1987 and a young Anthony Matthew Strout was an actor back then, with a huge crush on his dance partner during the Fezziwig scene of Christmas Carol. She had short dark hair, a dancer's body and more importantly, she was smart and funny. I however was a bit chunky, sported the requisite 80s mullet, and well, I looked like me. Despite all this, we would talk on the phone for hours and eventually I decide to invite her over for a nice romantic dinner.
I'm 17 and in a fit of generosity my parents get the hell out of town, and I attempt a gourmet dinner, which goes over fairly well, the evening lit by candlelight. We then settle in to watch Casablanca cuz there's nothing sexier than Nazis and a toupee wearing hairlip, right? Then at her request she wants a full body massage... and I think you know what that means in terms of teen lingo... clearly its the overture to some kind of "bow chika wow wowww", yes?

Things progress, but when I go to actually move in for a kiss, things get weird. She freaks out like it was coming out of nowhere, and I take her home immediately in what has to be the most uncomfortable forty minutes of my life back then... Just silence.

We never really talked during the rest of the show, except for that fake talk you do in fake party scenes, but even that was awkward and uncomfortable.

Looking back, I have to laugh. In many ways, I was out of my league for who I was back then. Had the timing been a year different, the whole thing would have actually worked out due to who I had become by then, but alas.. twas not meant to be. It's fun to look back on yourself and be amused by who you were... a lot of people block that out, but I like to learn from it and if you can't see the humor in yourself, well, you're just no fun.

And yes, I know what you are wondering... yes, I occasionally run out into the wilderness naked, shake my fists at the heavens, screaming "Who's laughing now, dancer girl, who's laughing nowwww?"

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