Up All Night

The end of Valentine’s Day is upon us. For the lovers, the cry babies, the rejected, the wilted, the jilted, the romantics, and the Hallmark holiday believers, we on the West Coast have less than two hours to embrace or disgrace this day. Your choice – I’m all about free will. Go with God, I say.
And how am I spending it exactly? I’ve decided to hang at the “office” (I will refrain from saying where he actually works) with my significant other, who unfortunately has to work tonight…until 6 a.m. So more than a romantic, I guess I’m a cry baby and a whiner. I really gotta step up my game here.
Anyway, rather than write a post about love and romance or the lack thereof (side note: I will be sharing a post about past Valentine’s Days rather soon), I have decided to try this whole live blogging tactic, and document my night. This may be entirely boring or this may be extremely interesting – I really have no idea at this point considering I’m usually caterpillared up underneath five blankets right about now. I’m not one to pull all nighters, and I’m normally not a caffeine drinker, so we will just see how this goes.
I also apologize in advance if I start to sound more and more delusional/delirious as the night/early morning progresses. So here we go…
10:47 pm: I’m just settling into the lounge area. He’s been here for over four hours now, but I needed to bring him dinner (because I’m a sappy caring lover), and I also needed to eat, so here I sit, full from shrimp tacos and comfortable in my yoga pants and baggy black sweatshirt my sister brought me back from Ireland. For one, I’m already tired, which I realize, makes me sound like I have the soul of a ninety-year-old woman, and two, reading this book of mine is only making matters worse. Although to be fair, I don’t think it’s the content so much as my brain has been overworked this week thanks to midterms, case studies, papers, presentations…oh, and any actual work that comes up at, well, work. The book itself is coming along swimmingly so far…but I’m only on page 26, and the night and this book are still young.

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11:01 pm: My sister and one of our friends decided it would be a good idea to start a group text message where we can talk about their singledom (and subsequent frustrations with the male species) and where they can shun me for being coupled off. Something I will happily not apologize for. For everyone that is single on this day, I say there’s someone for everyone, it’s all about finding that someone – that person that is going to be madly in love with you even when you fart in your sleep. And for the rest of those that claim to be forever alone, that’s why cats and Ben and Jerry’s were invented. And I said I wasn’t going to write about love, but look at me. Clearly the deliriousness is already setting in.
11:03 pm: My sister and our friend are rambling about someone named Randy. I have no idea who that is. Damn group texts blowing up my phone. I’m not-so-secretly ninety inside and I just want to fall asleep on this not-so-comfortable leather couch! Also, my boyfriend has disappeared somewhere in the building and hasn’t returned since I first arrived. Might as well lump me in with the singles, bring me a tabby cat to snuggle with, and finish off V-Day with a pint of Chunky Monkey.
11:31 pm: “Hey now! Hey now! My boyfriend’s back!” We are sitting on the leather couch discussing our Valentine’s Day plans last year. Now thanks to long distance, we were not together on February 14, but he had planned a weekend celebration. And now he’s telling me he can still remember what I wore out to our fancy pants dinner…down to the last detail, including my thin, gold belt I had cinched around the torso area of my dress. He gets major kudos for remembering the little things. And to think, he was one of the “disgracers” of Valentine’s Day – until I came along. But on a more serious note, I’m the lucky one. I’m a lucky, lucky lady. But then again, I’ve never needed one specific day of the year to remind me of that. I will refrain from using any #blessed tags. Thank me later, dear readers. If any of you are still with me, that is.
12:01 am: It’s official. Valentine’s Day 2014 is over. We came. We saw. We conquered. Or at least some of us did.
12:49 am:
All I want to do right now is sit in bed and watch Modern Family. With the show already on season five, I’m incredibly late on the uptake here, but I’ve been watching online like crazy (and am currently at the start of season three), and thanks to one of my best friends and my S.O., I have developed a clinical obsession with this show. And a love for Cam and Mitchell as if they were my own uncles.

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1:03 am: Who the hell is Randy?!
1:07 am: Gavin, some of his coworkers, and I have decided to take this psychopath test. In a nutshell, this test has two parts: it measures on a scale of 1 to 5 how close a person is to being a sociopath and a psychopath (and if you receive two scores close to five, quit watching Hannibal and American Psycho. Just stop. Quit that shit. Immediately. And now we are all sitting here discussing scary movies and shows that got us as kids. Are You Afraid of the Dark?, anyone? Five minutes of this, and now the men have moved on to discussing the tactics used in the Saw series. Maybe we should reevaluate our psychopath test scores…
1:12 am: I’ve determined that one of Gavin’s coworkers may actually be a psychopath…
How much more proof do I need when the guy starts talking about how he used to dream about walking on the ceiling with his head twisted around? Really, really? Ten seconds I’ve known you and you want to open with that? At the very least, this guy’s got some balls.
2:14 am: I am barely hanging in at this point. Blankets, a bed, and a snuggle buddy are calling my name. What to do? We are under the four hour mark, and there is no coffee. SWISS MISS to the rescue! I have discovered that the water out of the sink here will literally scald your skin right off. Meanwhile, the guys have taken to watching Hannibal on one of the computers. Joy…

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2:20 am: We have progressed from taking psychopath tests to metrosexual personality quizzes. This is what happens when you have one girl and five guys. Okay, not always…but we’re not shooting a porno over here. Anyway, I have also learned in the past few minutes that the men here have a term of endearment for one another here: slut. It’s like I’m invisible…now should I use my newfound power for good or evil?
2:53 am: It’s not even 3 a.m. yet. Shit.
3:33 am: A nap on this superbly uncomfortable couch is about to commence. And as uncomfortable as it is, I’m so tired right now I could probably fall asleep on a pile of shattered glass. Hey, I said probably.
4:01 am: I did not succeed in my task. Heading home to the apartment now. Eyes droopy, hair messy, and I am starving. Sleep or food? Priorities, priorities. For those of you that stuck with me, thank you, you brave and courageous souls. (More like poor, unfortunate souls, but I don’t really have much high ground to stand on here). And for those of you that are smarter and fell asleep much earlier, damn you and your common sense, you lucky bastards.
I’m officially calling it a night. Sweet dreams to all, and to all a good night!

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