Top Shelf Lovin'
Top Shelf Lovin'
Top Shelf Lovin'
First off, thanks to everyone who gave me their choice wedding song when I asked in my last blog. You guys have an immaculate palate for love music. Fly Me to the Moon by ol' Frankie Blue Eyes? Classic. Stay With You by John Legend? Choked me up. I think I'm going to need a whole wedding album.
I love men.
Okay, I know I claim to be “jaded” all the time and I truly want to vomit every time I try to imagine myself in a serious relationship, but admit it – men, as an entity, are like that third shot of tequila. You know you’re gunna get all types of effed up, but you take a chance anyway. All because the buzz is worth it. Or is it?
Living in an area (and age) where everyone is a hardcore romance skeptic, all you ever hear is “Valentine’s Day? Uh no, we’re just going to watch a movie and go to sleep.”
What the hell happened to the roses? The candy? The kinky-ass, tied-up, whipped creamed, red light special Valentine’s sex?
Today, a close guy friend of mine, Dan was telling me what he did for his honey on the big day and I have to say - I was impressed. Apparently, his girlfriend is a serious Giants fan, and Dan got last minute word that her favorite player was signing limited edition jerseys at some random store in the Bronx. He literally stopped everything he was doing, ran (public transportation and icy rain are not a cute combo) from north Jersey to the Bronx because he couldn’t imagine a better Valentine’s Day gift.
This fool was jumping over things and bribing people and a whole slew of other action-movie type details that I don’t have time to exhaust in this blog. Long story short, he got what he wanted, which was only part of the extremely personal and heartfelt token of affection he presented her with last week.
Now giving a great gift is all fine and dandy, but the part that got to me was his genuine excitement about all of it.
“Rajul, screw the generic roses and diamonds – there’s nothing that compares to the feeling of giving a woman something that’s tailored to her,” Dan told me. “I want her to know that I not only care about her, I listen to her.”
Hmm, listening. That’s an interesting concept. I mean I can talk up a storm, but actually absorbing what someone’s dishing out to you is a toughie. I’ll admit that even when I want to listen to a man, even when I’m crazy about him and I want to effervesce in the tall glass of water that is his body, his mind, his soul…I find it hard to really listen.
I do have to give myself props when it comes to gifts – I’ve been a champ from the beginning. The Valentine’s Days of the past have been right on target for me. Got my metrosexual man some exclusive Swedish skin care products in 2003, my pothead boyfriend a heart-shaped tin of high-grade purple haze in 2004, and my politico darling a limited edition of Barack Obama’s “Dreams of My Father” in 2006. Yup, I definitely got more than a thank you kiss every year.
Gifts aren’t everything though. In general, I’m often guilty of catering to a man the way I want to cater to him. It’s oddly selfish and kind of unfulfilling because I’ll put all this effort into something that he never wanted to begin with. And contrary to popular belief, men aren’t simple. No matter what they say, just like women, they want a specific type of affection.
Keep that in mind, ladies, when you’re out there on the prowl. You can use the same game to snag him up, but when it comes down to the wire and you guys are getting serious, you can’t love him the way you loved the last one. Which is a blessing for me, since the last one made me never want to love again.
But I’m still here, still in the game and ready for that third shot of tequila. But put the Jose Cuervo garbage away, I’m ready for the Patron this time.