Well guys, tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. And if you’re anything like most men on February 13th, you’re hopelessly without a plan and about ready to fake food poisoning. But before you start attempting to inoculate your GI tract by eating peanut paste, take a deep breath and keep on reading. Your last-minute search for something romantic to do with your lady friend is about to come to an end, and I’m going to tell you how.
Now, I’m speaking directly to my fellow attached males for three reasons. One: If you’re single, congratulations; you don’t need much help and you just saved $50. Go buy a Playboy and get a good night’s rest. Two: Men need the advice far more than women, as evidenced by the fact that we buy Playboys. Three: Women don’t listen to me, because when I give them advice they know that what I think they should do may not necessarily be aligned with their best interests or “reputation“ (whatever that means).
So I’ll be sticking to us dudes who’ve sacrificed erotic freedom for committed stability. The first thing we need to remember is that the work we put in on Valentine’s Day is a small price for us to pay for that sacrifice. Besides, we’ve got our own holiday coming up in a month, so be patient. That would be Steak and Blowjob Day, of course, the parameters of which ought to be rather self-explanatory and about which there is really no advice I can give (except, ladies, that a meat tenderizer is for use in a culinary context only).
For the reluctant holdouts who scoff at the sexism ingrained in Valentine’s Day, look at it like this: What you do tomorrow is an investment, the quality of which will become quite clear on the evening of March 14th when both the steak and the blowjob are either a) well done or b) rare and bloody (recall the meat tenderizer).
So here’s the question; what’s a guy to do when he’s got less than a day to concoct plans to compete with the likes of The Notebook? The first thing to do is admit defeat. You are not Noah, nor are you Don Juan de Marco or Cyrano de Bergerac. No, you’re merely a man on a mission and a budget. Therefore, I present the following ideas for tomorrow evening. Good luck, and happy hunting.
Go to the DC. Tell her to put on a nice dress and to be ready by six. If she asks where you’re going, tell her that it’s a surprise to die for. Dress yourself accordingly, and show up with a blindfold and ear plugs. Tell her to trust you. Put her in your car and drive around Davis to disorient her. Park the car, and guide her slowly to the DC. Remind her that she trusts you. Then remove the blindfold when you get to the door and validate that trust. This sounds corny, but trust me, by the time you’re eating fro-yo and laughing about how ridiculous you look, signed, sealed and delivered she’s yours. Bonus: sneak into a dorm and hook up in the common room for old time’s sake.
Cook her dinner. If you’re not down for the DC, break out the suit, some candles, some Van Morrison and some red wine (or Sierra Nevada if that’s your style), and show her what a good provider you are. That said, don’t make it elaborate; a somewhat inept, homemade meal with tacky attempts at sophistication (flower vase=blender, candle holders=shot glasses) is far superior to any restaurant. Bonus: synchronize the music in the dining room with the music in the bedroom for uninterrupted sexy time.
Make out in public, in the rain. Whether morning or night, light or dark, grab her by the hand before she has the chance to protest and drag her outside. Kiss until the two of you are completely drenched; hair, clothes, everything. She might not like it at first, but by the end she’ll love you for it. Why? Because by letting her guard down in public she’s making herself vulnerable, yet by being there with you and seeing your confidence to do the same she’s having her feelings both validated and liberated. (OK, so maybe you are Noah. But hey, this one’s easier than building a friggin‘ house right?) Bonus: build her a friggin‘ house.
Scavenger hunt. Big or small as you want; it can be around all of Davis or confined to a single room. Make the clues relevant to your relationship and increasingly challenging. As for the items to find, the first thing should be small, like a Hershey’s kiss. Then move up to something like a mix CD of songs you both like or that remind you of that one time in the back of Chem 194. Finish off with some lingerie or, if you aren’t 100 percent (and I mean 100 percent) sure on her size, a coupon booklet of sorts with IOU’s for massages, ice cream dates and cuddle sessions. Bonus: hide the last item in your pants. Chicks love that shit.
Buy her flowers. But don’t just buy her a dozen and call it a day. Buy a single rose, cut off the flower and replace it with an origami rose of her favorite color. And you can do something unique with the flower you just cut off, like put it in your pants. And if you want to go big, buy the dozen roses, but pull the petals off individually and lay them all over the bed with a few chocolates for added pizzazz. Bonus: save the petals and surprise her later with potpourri.
Hit up the MUGA. Fuck it dude, let’s go bowling. Bonus: go to the In-N-Out Burger.
None of these things should take more than a couple of hours to throw together, and so long as you show the effort she’ll dig it. But should you stray from the path, might I suggest that you never, under any circumstances, ever do any of the following:
Tell her she looks better than usual. Women do not look better than usual; they look good, great, fantastic or beautiful. And whether they look good, great, fantastic or beautiful is directly dependant, not on their actual appearance, but on how long it took them to get ready and how late they made you.
Give her money. All women know that, on some level, they’re inherently selling themselves for something (cash, power, status, etc.). Blatantly reminding them of that fact is a poor business decision on your part. Remember the whole investment analogy? Well, this would be like buying shares of WaMu in the fall of 2007. Be prepared for a rather undercooked steak.
Mention any other female you ever knew or currently know besides your mother. You do not like hearing about Anthony and his band that is “totally getting big.“ In the same vein, she does not want to hear about Sara and her boobs that are already totally big. And unlike Sara, who has blocked your number, Anthony would be more than happy to see your lady friend again. You would do well to remember that.
And finally, don’t claim that you came up with any of the ideas you read here. By all means, do these things; fair use applies. But the next morning when she looks into your eyes and says, “That was the most romantic evening of my life. How did you come up with all that?” Cite the source brotha, cite the source.
K.C. CODY honestly can’t remember how he came up with all that. Let him know how it goes, and whether you made a quality investment, at kccody@ucdavis.edu.
