you choo-choo-choose me?

Flowers? Nope. Candy? Just whatever my coworkers gave me. Sexy evening plans? Nope. Do I care? Nope.

I'm not a Valentine's Day person, nor do I ever think I will be. I'm in the camp that believes this is a fake holiday dreamed up by marketing professionals looking to make some money on cards, flowers, chocolate, jewelry, and whatever else we are "supposed" to buy for our significant other.
So far, I've celebrated VDay loving myself, indulging in the things I love and not getting down on myself about anything. My new office has a lovely view of the Chicago River and, after the snow stopped falling this morning, I got to enjoy a beautifully sunny afternoon. I'm wearing one of my favorite outfits - all black from head to heels. On my feet are my ab fab favorite shoes, a pair of shiny green patent leather stilettos. They'd look like stripper shoes if I wasn't wearing them with black dress pants. I went to the gym this morning, even after completing yet another snowy hike through my neighborhood to the El stop.

Now, as the workday comes to a close, I reach a dilemma. Or maybe it's not a dilemma, but a problem. A sticky situation, perhaps. Ideally, I would leave work and go to my empty apartment (the benefit of having roommates with serious boyfriends and, therefore, VDay plans). I would lounge around, eat, and probably watch a movie or some generally bad television. Finally, around 10pm, I'd get into bed with my new issue of Real Simple and read until I was tired.

But....I've got plans.

Remember how I told you about my guy friend and the potential awkwardness? Yep, it's gotten more awkward. Emails and phone calls from him during the week last week. We made plans to hang out Saturday night at a party at a bar (happened to be A's favorite bar - lucky he wasn't there). After the drink special ended, we wound up just going to his place to hang out and have some beers. Nothing more. Being late, cold, and at least an $11 cab ride from my place, he suggested I just crash there and he would drive me home the next morning. I was game (although slightly skeptical). I slept in sweats and kept my distance when I crawled into bed. Nothing happened. Totally platonic sleepover. The next day I ended up hanging out at his place all day. By the time we woke up with our mini-hangovers, we didn't want to do anything except watch college basketball or anything else we found on TV. Before I knew it, it was 10:30 and the Grammys were over. Oops. The Friend drove me home and, as we got to my place, asked what I was doing Wednesday night (notice the lack of holiday mention).

At the time I thought it would be nice to have plans for VDay. I didn't want to spend it alone. But as the reality of what this might indicate to him sunk in, I began regretting my decision. Stupid Erin.

So now we've got plans to hang out, most likely just at his place (he offered to make me dinner since reservations and weather make going out a bit tricky). And while I appreciate all of this, I'm nervous as hell about what he is thinking and where this evening might go.