"All Is Full Of Love"

Although I generally eschew hallmark holidays on principle, I was quite eager for this past valentines day. I am glad to report that I was not disappointed. In fact, I ended up having the best date of my life! *Cue: girly squeal of delight*

First I must explain a bit of my romantic history over the past month... Not too long ago I went on the worst date in the history of the universe. (Ok, not quite. But certainly the craziest - in a bad, bad, way - that I have ever been on.) I will blog about it, in perhaps a year or so. I have already written about said event, in fear that my mind will attempt to block it at some point. But as details would be incredibly incriminating for the fellow (who does not remember the majority of the evening's occurrences) and my sister has reminded me that our mother reads my blog, I shall wait a while before posting.

Then last week I was stood up for the first time in my life. By the same guy. Are you all yelling at me via your monitors yet? All right, I get it... Do not bother dating emotionally unavailable men who are on drugs, no matter how gorgeous and full of potential they may be. I am not naive. Just a little too apt at seeing the goodness and beauty in everyone. It can cloud the judgement.

So instead of sitting at home, despairing my singleness, I decided to take myself out on the date I really wanted this year. Thus began the hatching of plans for wunder-valentines-day!

This past Sunday, after ridding myself of the children, I longboarded to the florists with one of my of best gal-friends. There I purchased, for myself, a bouquet of gigantic, luscious red, gerbera daisies. Then we were off to an uber-inspiring poetry workshop hosted by another soul-sister. A good start.

Next we boarded about, talking of life and love, and I received my first longboarding wounds, ever, after attempting to make it down the largest hill in town. Blood was spilled. It was great fun! (Yes, I am a terrible adrenaline junkie. It's my one vice.)

When we heard the roar of her boyfriend's purple franken-jeep behind us, and my mate said she would see me home, I admit to feeling a wave of loneliness. He reappeared once or twice en route to my place, but we managed to dodge him after that. This was still girl-time.

I fancied myself up a little, donned a sweet pumpkin-coloured merino-wool dress and went to the cinema for some eye candy. Thank you, John Travolta! Then I took myself out for dessert: chocolate, brandied-cherry trifle in a martini glass. It was insanely delicious. (I would gladly eat nothing but this, for the foreseeable future.)

In the dim candle light of the restaurant I wrote a hilarious love letter, to moi, in poor Parisian and reflected on how much fun I actually have being "alone."

I rolled home on smooth roads, wind in my hair, grinning all the way. Ditched my board, then walked to the river to listen to the rapids. As their roar filled my ears, I truly felt the Bjork-ism: "All is full of love."