White Rugs And Red Wine

I was one of many fantastic people born on February 14th, a day recognized by the world as “Valentines Day.” I don’t celebrate the corporate, commercialized holiday. I celebrate my birthday. This year I was told by my favourite person that he was going to give me a random valentines day. I was excited by the thought, but it was quickly forgotten. And then yesterday evening I went to his house for our Tuesday Amazing Race Nights. 
As I walked onto the porch I noticed the bbq was on and smelling really yummy. I went inside and made my way down the stairs. Dustin came around the corner in my favourite of his shirts, sporting a fresh haircut and definitely not seeming like someone who had gotten off work 10 minutes earlier. I was greeted with a hug and “happy valentines day.” He led me into the living room/kitchen where the table was set with a pretty bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, and an envelope.
“You don’t get to open the envelope until after dinner.” he told me. I couldn’t stop the smile that was bubbling from the bottom of my toes to the top of my head.
“You did this all for me?” I asked. “You are the coolest person I have ever met. No one has ever done anything like this for me! You got me flowers!”
“And wine.” he added. If there is a feeling described by full contentment, a bouncing excited heart, and extreme happiness, thats what I was feeling. If there’s no such thing, then I was probably just falling in love all over again ten times harder. We talked for a little while, the feeling of having something planned like this for me soaking in. Dustin offered some wine and I accepted. We talked about the wine and about school and our days, and then I set my wine on the table and began a story. Not even two seconds into the story, I gestured to something on the wall and suddenly, shockingly, discovered that Dustin had also placed his glass of wine on the table. Instead of my hand being ladylike and gesturing to the wall as I had intended, it went far lower and knocked the glass towards the carpeted floor.

Lets just pause for a moment before the wine splashes all over the wall, fridge, and floor. I’m going to take you back to a morning many months back when Dustin made me coffee. I am a struggling tyrant in the morning as it is, God forbid that I go an hour with out some good coffee. Upon knowing this, and seeing as it was a rather hungover morning, Dustin made me coffee and breakfast. I don’t remember if I was attempting to hug him or what, but I didn’t get him, and instead I got the coffee all over the floor. The same white carpet. He ran for the Resolve, and I ran for a cloth and we did our best to get the coffee out of the rug. Later that day- and nearly every time I visit- I almost knocked his prize goalie stick into his beloved guitars. (In my defence, the stick is in the most unreasonable place in his house. Anyone would trip over it.) I also spilled trail mix in his shiny, clean, don’t-touch-it-you’ll-scratch-it new truck. What I’m saying is that I’ve had many klutzy moments in front of him, nearly ruining his things. So me breaking his mothers crystal and sending the wine flying wasn’t shocking. Unexpected and extremely unfortunate, yes. “Oh my, you spilled the wine and broke a glass?” shocking? No.

Now we defrost time and let it continue to play out. Without so much as a “clink” the glass was smashed and the cabernet merlot was splattered across the wall and floor like a cow’s innards in the butcher room. (I’m a farmer’s daughter. My similes are gonna be out there.) I had de-ja-vu as Dustin ran for the Resolve and I ran for a cloth. My profuse apologizing and sheer mortification were received and replied to with “It’s okay. It’s fine.” In his head, I’m sure “fine” was translated as “Good God, woman. Lord give me strength. This chick is crazy even when she’s not acting crazy.” But I heard “fine”, and we stayed silent as we pulled the wine from the rug.
“I’m sorry.” I broke the silence again. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Yeah. It is.” He responded. Then he looked at me and said in a way only he can, “Dale.” he shook his head and smiled and I knew I was forgiven for my lack of gracefulness and over all minimal coordination. Dinner was nearly ready at this point, so we went up to the patio to stand in the sun while we waited a few more minutes. I held a plate as he took the steaks and veggies from the grill and gave them to me. Turning carefully, I opened the patio door and heard a wistful and sincere “Please don’t drop those.” With a sheepish smile I nodded and made a descent down the stairs. I successfully made it and we sat down to one of the most amazing dinners ever cooked for me. I’m really horrible at describing food (see above comparison of spilled wine to cow guts) so I’m not going to try, but I will say that my boyfriend is one of the best cooks I know. And I feel bad because I hardly ever cook for him, but the truth is he is so much better at it than I am. I’m working on it though.

After dinner, we had desert of Haagan daz ice cream and triple chocolate cake. Does this guy know the way to my heart or what? He bought me flowers and ice cream! And in the envelope next to the flowers, my actual present (he got me a present! ahh!) was tickets to see Dierks Bentley, Randy Houser, and Tim Hicks in October! The amount of planning and thought process that went into this evening all with me in mind made me realize I have highly underestimated Dustin’s charm.

I am giddy. I am happy. I am smitten as a kitten. Someone loves me enough to buy me flowers, ice cream, and country music tickets to some of my favourite artists. He looks beyond my klutzyness, hides his hockey sticks, and moves his guitars farther into the corner, all because he loves me.
In conclusion, my first Random Valentines Day was a surprise, really cool and I no longer hold such disdain for the idea of the holiday. I will buy the cheap chocolates and hide the good crystal and drink my wine from a sippycup.

Happy Belated Valentines Day, World. 
All my love is currently directed toward someone else but you will always hold my interest if you don’t mind that I see you on the side occasionally,

Sarah.
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