Valentine Schmalentine.

I suppose as any blogger is doing, they're thinking of a particular Valentine's Day story that they can either say how horrible it was or how spectacular it was. I've never really had either. I would say that all of my Valentine's Days have been completely mediocre and bland. I've been single during some, taken during some, sick during some, slept through some, etc. Thinking back, it's hard for me to even remember a lot of them and the one that is sticking out happened in 7th grade. Ooooh, story time!

In 7th grade by Valentine's Day I was 13 years old and I had a hot body. I was one of those girls that developed basically overnight and it seemed to happen the summer before 7th grade. I had always had an athletic body, but it was never womanly in any way until that summer before teenagedom. I don't remember ever wearing an A cup, ever. It might be because when I first grew my boobies I would only wear sports bras because they were more comfortable and flattened out the awkward peach pit shaped nip/boob that was going on. When I got real tits, my mom made me buy some real bras, which all sucked as they had underwires. By 7th grade, I was a C cup with curvy hips and a tight ass. It didn't really occur to me that I had a hot body until I didn't have it anymore, but I was definitely aware of my body and the reactions it could have. I did the whole polo shirt thing where I'd unbutton as many buttons as I could get away with without having to go see the dean and I'd talk to boys while sitting and crossing my arms to squish my boobs together to show them some cleavage. It was easy, fun, and I liked the attention. Even with my hot bod, I didn't have a boyfriend at the time (I was technically allowed to date, but it wasn't like I was doing anything with boys at that age). I liked a few guys, including ex-BFF, but nothing really materialized.

With that being said, I wasn't expecting much to happen on Valentine's Day. My junior high had always done a sucker sale to raise money for the school around this time, and I knew that I would get suckers from my girlfriends, but it was always a big deal if you got one from a guy. Suckers were delivered during homeroom the day of Valentine's Day and every girl wanted to be the girl that got the most in the class. As I looked at my accumulated pile, I felt pretty good about it. I usually averaged 5-8 suckers depending on who was pissy or cheap at the time. I don't remember how many suckers I had that year, but I distinctly remember being surprised by one. Attached to the sucker, there was a "To/From" sticker. It was addressed to me, my full first name, which was weird because usually everyone called me by my shortened nickname and it said "From: Anonymous" although anonymous was spelled wrong, it looked more like the person who was sounding out the word anonymous was thinking of hippopotamus. I tried to analyze the handwriting and concluded that it was a boy from the retarded spelling and chicken scratch font. The big question was who could it be. As the day went on and more of my girlfriends found out about Mr. Anonymous, they felt it was their duty as my friend to find out who the romantic man was that would not release his name.

They asked every boy that was in our group and of course the answer was no. I couldn't think of anyone outside the group that would have done it, but still to this day, I wonder who it was. Whoever it was, I hope they know that it really made me feel special, even if it was just a stupid sucker. Little things sometimes mean the most and this is one example of it.

This Valentine's Day, 8 years later, I really don't have any plans. I might go out with a few girlfriends, but that's any Saturday really. I won't feel bad about it because I don't really give a fuck about Valentine's Day as a holiday or whatever, but I suppose one day I will and I'm hoping that day is very far in the future.

The only update I have about my love life, or lack thereof is that Rocker broadened his vocabulary horizons last night when we had phone sex again. He actually said pussy and fuck, which was a plus because I don't think my dirty mind could get off again if he just kept saying things like licking and kissing. He was at work last night and he was a little bored because the bar he moonlights at was slow. I asked if he wanted to play a game with me, if he could guess what color bra I was wearing, I'd send him a picture showing it. He guessed correctly, black, so I sent him a picture of my shirt unbuttoned, exposing my bra. He called me right after and told me how nice my boobies were. Yes, he did say boobies and I told him he wasn't 10, so he couldn't say that. Then he said tits, so I was okay with it. We still talk everyday, several times a day, but still no mention of when we're meeting. I don't know if we both don't want to bring it up for fear that the other isn't ready or what, but it is kind of driving me crazy since my friends have figured out that I'm interested in someone and are doing the typical demanding to meet him thing.

I'm trying my best to be patient, but only talking about hooking up is starting to frustrate me. Meanwhile, I haven't heard from ex-BFF so I'm grateful for that as it's one more complication I don't have to worry about. But for now, I'm off to paint my nails hooker red. Hope you all have a good holiday if you're celebrating it, if not, have a good weekend anyways.