I know my last Valentine's postmade me appear to be the Ebenezer Scrooge of February 14th (bah, humbug) , but at heart I am probably one of the last true romantics. To show you just how authentic this is I am going to tell you the story of the first Valentine's Day Big Boy and I spent as an affianced couple.
Let me take you back. It is February 14th 1996. We had become engaged the October before, and our wedding was planned for the following October. We had been co-habitating for around eighteen months.
Big Boy arrived home from work to an empty house. Upon entering our tiny, dimly lit lounge area he was greeted by the following.
A single long stemmed red rose in a fine crystal vase.
A glass of his favourite red wine.
A platter of his favourite cheeses.
From me. It read:
My love, sit, relax, unwind. At 7pm the doorbell will ring. Answer it and do as instructed. I love you. MM
You can imagine how intrigued he was by then, can't you?
7pm. The doorbell rings. He is greeted by a chauffer, who informs him he is there to take him to a pre-arranged destination. As he reclines in the plush leather seats, another glass of his favourite wine awaits him. The car drives slowly around the harbour as the sun sets and the Sydney night sky is revealed in all her glory.
They drive from one side of the harbour to another, until finally the car pulls into the entrance of a five-star hotel at Darling Harbour. There I stand, hair freshly done, make up immaculate, my long black gown skimming over my curves, smiling, waiting.
He gets out, baffled expression still on his face, resplendent in his workday suit.
I kiss him, take his hand and lead him into the fine dining restaurant.
Oh, but this is not the end. No, not nearly.
We eat, drink, laugh, cry. A three course love affair of the senses. Then we arise to leave and he asks how we are getting home. I have driven, but have also drunk the wine.
I smile, lead the way to the casino, one of his rarely indulged but favourite luxuries. At this time I let him know he can relax, we are not going home, we are booked into the hotel for the night.
What do you think so far? Still believe I am an unromantic philistine? It's not over yet.
His favourite is blackjack, so it is there we head. He sits, I tell him to enjoy and I will be around, gambling is not my thing. I let him know I am content to people watch and wander whilst he enjoys.
Now, this where I have my fun. I meander around, chatting, playing the card machines, listening to the band in the bar. I constantly return to the table, touch, kiss or just smile to let him know I am fine. And then return to my wanders.
Standing across the room I glance up in time to see an attractive suit clad woman request the two Japanese gentlemen at Big Boy's table shuffle across for her to sit beside him. I stand, sipping my Southern Comfort, watching her flirt, hand graze, tease and trifle with my man.
I give her time build anticipation. I am sometimes a very patient woman. As she becomes bolder I make my move. Stroll back to the table (she is on his right), walk up behind him. Place left hand with huge sparkler on his right shoulder, tilt his head back and give him a teasing, tantalising slow, soft kiss. In one move I declare possession and mark my territory. Casually walk away.
She left the table rather abruptly shortly later.
The rest of the night is ours alone. I will not share. But he is still my only true love to this day, an even stronger love because of all we have shared.
Happy Valentine's Day Big Boy. You are the reason I was born.
Oh, and he later told me she was rubbing her thigh against his the whole time she sat there. If I had known that I might not have acted quite so civilised.