UPDATE: You Guessed It, No Valentine’s Date

^pretty baller heart, huh?

In all honesty, I put no solid effort into getting a date unless you count sloppy bar number exchanges and poor follow-ups as effort. It would be tough to meet a girl the week before Valentine’s Day anyway. That would instantly set me up for disaster: “No, we aren’t going out to dinner; I don’t even know your last name”, “Oh yea, I got you some chocolates, but you are bat-shit crazy if you think I am not going to eat half of these”, “Roses? Are you kidding me? In this economic climate” and lastly, “What’s your last name again?” So I guess it’s for the best I don’t have a date. It saves me a huge smack mark across my face and water getting spilled in my lap…even though that could lead to a sympathy date if I muster up enough old-school strength to put on a quality sad/defeated/puppy-dog face.

It looks grim, but I am a fighter, and what do fighters do? They channel the “Thomas the Engine” mentality and eliminate “can’t” from their vocabulary. I’m going to use this failure as fuel to make this a memorable weekend nonetheless. I am going to terrorize the bar scene as well as dress my ass off. If neither of those things succeeds, I might as well just mail it in.

This guy, though, doesn’t plan to lose.