Today was Valentine’s Day, and so again as a bachelor I needed to avoid bars and restaurants tonight, as I would probably look like the ultimate third wheel. I came straight home after work, stopping only at the supermarket to pick up my dinner, a “rotisserie” chicken. Took it home, and it was pretty gross. I ate most of the breast, and fed the rest to my dog Samson.
Taking out the trash, I noticed I had a package…. I’m a certified amazon compulsive purchaser, and it often happens that I receive a package and forget I ordered the thing. Today however, when I went to pick up the box, I noticed I actually had three packages.
Right off the bat, I was reminded that I had ordered something from Woot.com. Their items arrive in a clearly marked bag, so that one as obvious. I had taken advantage of their “mystery hoodie” deal, and bought a hoodie off them, in my size, for ten bucks. I would not know which design appears on the hoodie till I see it. Simple enough terms, I think. Still, when I got the Cat Resume hoodie, I laughed, and figured I’d wear it when it was cold, it was only ten bucks, so what the hell. The super bonus occurred when i out it on, and noticed that a ninja cat had snuck on to the front of the hoodie. Sneaky bastard, but that’s what ninjas and cats do, I suppose.
The second box as HEAVY, so right away I figured out it was a couple of car parts I had ordered off of a guy in Ohio somewhere, close to Cleveland. One driver side seat rail for a 68 dodge, and one trunk lock mechanism for same car, along with the key and barrel for the lock itself. $200 it had costed me, shipping included. Seemed like a lot when I found the parts in a forum online, but after trying to find them any cheaper and failing, I saw he value and jumped on it. Now I have them, and these are literally the as pieces I can think of that I need to make the car driveable. Crossing the old fingers on that one.
The last box was the most interesting, and the only one that had anything to do with Valentine’s Day, although perhaps by sheer coincidence. It was a box wrapped in brown paper, about the size of one of the big dictionaries in high school. Felt pretty solid, but when I cut it open with my penknife, under the shredded card stock stuffing, there was a card, taped to another brown wrapped object which i could now tell, was a book.
It was a copy of Hemingway’s “A Farewell To Arms“. One of my favorite all time novels, by my all time favorite writer. At first I kind of half frowned, because I had just bought and read this very edition, with alternate endings and in new packaging. . . . Then I opened the book to the firs couple of pages. .. . . There, glued to the first blank page with the Scribner’s logo, was a card with the signature of Sean Hemingway!
I sent a nice thank you text to the girl who sent it. I can’t share too much about her out of respect for her privacy, if not my own, but it’s a Hell of a story. It involves a band on tour, lot’s of sex, drugs, rock and roll, and madness that always sounds like a lie, unless you were there. She’s a girl I met on the road, I’ll say that much… I wonder if she reads this. She’s a smart girl, and as you can see by her gift, a bit of a bookworm. She’s sexy and hilarious, extremely fun, and game for whatever I could ever conjure up. We had our share of rendezvous and adventures all o ver the damned place, sometimes flying out to just be somewhere different, without telling a soul.
I remember once she got a room on a boardwalk for the two of us. . . . Meeting up halfway between where we both lived, unbeknownst to any of our friends. Just forgetting about the whole world and being two completely different souls for a weekend, both of us knowing it was only for fun, only temporary, and perhaps holding back on just how good it could have been.
I remember playing some music on my guitar in our room, looking out over the beach from our balcony, laying on the bed, and just talking and being real without a care in the world. We spent the whole weekend just cruising around sampling wines and holding each other, kissing, sharing, eventually packing our bags back up, one last kiss in the hotel parking lot, and driving back home for hours thinking about what my life had been up to that point.
Getting home today, and seeing the three packages, why did I leave hers for last? Was I subliminally saving the best for last? Maybe I wanted to avoid whatever sweetness was in there? I wonder did she intend this to even be a valentines a gift at all, or if it was just an example of how awesome she can be, out of the blue.
All I know is, sitting here outside in the cold dark on this glowing screen typing to my own thoughts, the feeling isn’t loneliness, it’s anticipation without knowing what’s next. I hope it’s something a little more fulfilling, a bit more permanent. Maybe it’s a yearning.