Jay Elias | You can take it with you

"I have wasted Time, and now doth
Time waste me"
- Richard II

2002-02-10- 5:15 p.m.

Pisces Girls, Cupid, and a Thirty Ought-Six: An Interlude

Usually Valentine’s Day in New York infuriates me; all those storefronts filled with giant cutout hearts and sexy bra and panty sets with little red and white patterns that I’ll never be so fortunate as to undress a woman in fill me with more than a little resentment. And you know I’m miffed if I’m typing the word “panties”. Nothing embarrasses me quite as much as calling women’s underwear “panties”. What am I, twelve?
This year, though, I don’t mind so much. Maybe it is because I sort of have someone, although I won’t see her for Valentine’s Day. Maybe it is because for no quantifiable reason, I’m doing better this February that I usually do, or because this year, it’s more like the beginning of spring in New York than the nadir of winter outside right now. But honestly, it is just more modest this year. So many stores have shuttered; so many more are struggling and can’t afford fancy window displays. It’s almost like I’m glad to see a store doing well enough that they can afford to cut lace doilies up and have some clerk with a modicum of calligraphy skills write “Happy Valentine’s Day” on it.
Seriously, the number of nice stores in Manhattan is dwindling. Which still leaves me far better off than most, but honestly, I’m going to really miss Hold Everything. And Coliseum Books. All kidding aside, this is the most store closings that have affected me since all the porn shops got closed down.
Not that I used to shop in those places. I just liked going in every once in a while, walking up to an older man who was browsing, and saying, “Uncle John? What in Sam Hill are you doing here?”
I don’t go in for astrology. It just isn’t my bag, I suppose, although neither is saying that things “aren’t my bag”, so I guess you never know. But something about the idea that my personality is ruled by where all the planets were when I was born just rubs me the wrong way. I suppose though that for someone prone to speaking in such absolutes, I’m prone to hedging my bets. After all, I’m an awfully observant Jew for someone who describes himself as an atheist too.
For all my lack of belief in astrology, I must admit, I have quite the history with Pisces girls. Most every girl who I dated for any length of time and got along with has been a Pisces. Of course, with me, that is a really really short list, but who’s counting? Ironically, Pisces is supposed to be a very good sign for me. I’m a Scorpio, and all the Cosmo “Bedside Astrologer” issues always say that a Scorpio girl goes really well with a Pisces boy.
Yes, I’m aware that I’m not a girl. Yes, I’ve checked. But Cosmo doesn’t write for boys, and Maxim doesn’t do astrology issues, so I’m sort of limited in my choices for where to research this. I suppose perhaps if I really wanted to delve into this, I could read something besides magazines. I’ll get right on that, I promise. And yes, I’m still sure I’m not a girl.
Even if I am tempted sometimes to take the Cosmo Quiz too. Gee, it’s a real shock no nice girl has snatched me up yet, isn’t it?
If you do know anything about astrology though, you’d know that dating Pisces girls tends to throw another difficulty into the whole February mix. Namely, you get the double gut punch of having to deal with Valentine’s Day and your girl’s birthday in a great deal of proximity. Which isn’t a good thing.
Look, maybe you’re the sort who has a never-ending list of great romantic activities to do with someone in your head, and a long list of great (and affordable) gifts that are both right up your significant other’s street and really charming and sweet. But I’m not. I’m fairly romantic, for a bloke at least, but I tend to get a headache when a violin player stands next to my table during dinner. And I tend to knock over candles while reaching for the asparagus. And the fact that I’ve brought up candlelight and violin serenades pretty much gives it away that I’m clichéd as all get-out when it comes to romantic options, doesn’t it?
I’m screwed because it’s early on too. Too little, I look cheap, but too much, and I’m coming on too strong, like if I told her I loved her the first time we went to bed or something. To quote, it is like a venereal disease, a birthday at this point.
One of these days, I’m going to learn to relax and enjoy these things. Of course, until then, I’ll just keep putting it down in my “to-do list” on my Palm Pilot. No, I’m not really that much of a dork. But no, I’m not going to let you see my “to-do list” on my Palm Pilot either. You’ll just have to trust me. Or learn to let me hide at least a little of my shame.
I hope this has been a little bit of an antidote to the rather depressed nature of my last couple of entries. For all of you who have been concerned, I’m not nearly as sad as those entries have made it seem. But, it is important for me to say those things out loud, because I’ve been making them a big part of my internal monologue for the last few years, and it is time to stop holding them in. I owe all of you a thank-you for putting up with it, and with me.
So consider yourselves thanked. Nope, as it turns out, I’m no better at being thankful than I am at being romantic, am I?

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Doesn't Take Much and That's Messed Up - 2004-03-15
Like Water Under Bridges - 2003-09-08
Jesus On The Dashboard - 2003-08-13
An Administrative Announcement - 2003-08-11
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