V-Day is always craptacular

I always find my Valentine’s Day totally void of romanticism like some kind of cruel universal amusement, but I have a particular additional reason to loathe the 'celebrations.'This years V-day was no exception, with my only possible Romeo in another country *POUT*

My birthday is two days before Valentine's Day, which means invariably anywhere I want to go is either booked out or chocked to the rafters with doe-eyed lovers who either staring dreamily into each others eyes or practically undressing each other.
This birthday was no exception, my girlfriends and I went to an Italian place in the Piazza and were shoved in a table upstairs with a few couples and a family merrily ignoring thier screaming kids so they could have a romantic meal on a night that wasn't a school night.
This wasn't too bad, after consumption of a few cocktails and a majority of a bottle of Merlot (2006 was a good year lol) all the background noise melted away and we had fun.

Possibly my worst ever Valentine's Day was on my 16th birthday. My best friend and her parents decided that we would go up to The Entrance and stay for the weekend. The day was a stinking hot one, lovely beach weather and we all ate a lovely picnic and swam about.
As the sun started to set we had fish and chips then decided to scamp off to find lodgings...
HAHA I think not! EVERY single motel, hotel, caravan park or camping site was totally booked out. So we, along with a dozen other cars parked on the side of the road for a blisteringly hot night sleeping in the car.
Super fun.

As an update, I am still having no sexy sex. Its all very boring and annoying in the way where you want to count how many days it has been since one last had sex... but I am persevering in my sex embargo.

My Somewhat Horrendous Valentine's Day

Fear not, Agent X, you don’t have to be married to be underwhelmed on Valentine’s.

Although in fairness to PVC, he wasn’t really to blame for the general horrendousness.

Now, I hate Valentine’s Day for the same reason I hate New Year’s Eve – because anything that hyped up is bound to be a disappointment. (There are other reasons why I hate VD, mostly to do with my utter disgust and contempt at capitalism’s attempt to sell ‘love’… or maybe I’m just bitter because no one ever paid for a singing telegram for me while I was in school and my disappointment at never getting the opportunity to hear ‘I’ll Make Love to You’ by Boys to Men screamed at me will now overshadow the rest of my romantic life…)

Anyway, I hate it. And flowers and all the crap make me cringe. A sentiment that PVC and I both share. Also any prospect of a hot date that evening was out of the question, as he had to be the demonstration partner for a beginners ceroc (a sort of jive-y ballroom dancing) class that night. The prospect of heckling him while he was up on the stage appealed to me, so I went along to the class.

Class was fun, and I got a good bit of heckling in. Afterwards there was some of social dancing, and then we had to decide whether we wanted to stay on for the intermediate class, or go home and eat cake. I was all for cake, but he insisted we stay, telling me that I was totally ready for intermediate (with my whole three lessons behind me). So we stayed.

Perhaps not surprisingly, I found the class kind of difficult. Which is a gentle way of saying I sucked. Oh how I sucked. (In fairness to me, I missed the beginning of the class because I had to go to the toilet, and my attention span was shot from the class that preceded it and another terrible day at work). But yeah, Lord of the Dance I was not. Even still, I couldn’t work out why PVC was acting really quite aggressive. He was being all “I said spin on THREE, not FOUR!” and I was all “dude chill out” until eventually he had to point out that his ex-girlfriend had joined the class with her new boyfriend and they had been dancing directly beside us for some time. Her new boyfriend was obviously at the same skill level as me, and she was doing a similar thing to PVC in that she was dragging the poor bugger all over the place.

I asked PVC if he wanted to go, but he was determined to stick the class out to the bitter end. So it then turned into this Strictly Ballroom-esk dance off, whereby we kept dancing into them and they kept dancing into us while the exes shot each other withering looks and I tried to check her out between demented spins. I thought it was funny, and I kept losing the plot and giggling, which only served to make PVC more annoyed at me.

An aside: PVC’s ex is freaking beautiful. You know that famous painting, with Venus emerging scantily clad from a clamshell? Well, like that. Long, flowing auburn hair, creamy skin, blue eyes, etc. I’ve seen photos of her, but she looks even better in real life. Although, by all accounts she’s a bit of a bitch, and while she’s got a nice rack, she has nothing on my ass. So, y’know. I wasn’t about to stick a diamante stiletto in her eye or anything, I was just kind of curious.

Finally admitting defeat, PVC and I sat down to watch the end of the class, while he gazed pensively in her direction. I asked him if he was going to say ‘hi’ which he decided he wasn’t, so we got up and skulked out before the final round of social dancing.

Now at this point, I’m expecting we’ll go to his place, eat cake and shag. But no, PVC has decided that the time was right for telling his parents that he’s planning to quit his ridiculously lucrative career in IT to become an impoverished photographer. This was not music to his highly-conservative parents’ ears. PVC proceeds to have a giant argument with his mum which lasts about two hours while I sit watching them awkwardly. I think a bit of blame might have ricoched in my direction, as the unwholesome artistic influence in his life, but I also might be paranoid. Anyway, not the most fun I’ve ever had, but in a perverse way kind of entertaining.

At the end of the night (into the early hours of Friday morning), we muster our last reserves of energy for cake consumption. Which unfortunately left zero energy for shagging. Bah.

Ah well. Shagged approximately five times this weekend, so I can’t really complain!

V Day- Hub-bee

Hub-bee went to footy training. Lame, unromantic. No flowers (which admittedly I DO think are way over priced for V Day), nothing.
Not that I really expected anything. We had Thai which we got take away from our fave local. (Yes, Blue Eschallot) and wine. Actually I drank most of the wine while hub-bee ironed his shirts. Yep, this is what you have to look forward to ladies. LOL
So we watched our "programs" which we had taped from the previous night, and when they finished we came back into the middle of "medical emergency" where they were doing gastric bypass surgery on a woman who weighed 400+kg (about 868 pounds I think, it was American).
SO Sexy. We were totally in the mood for sexy time after looking at a "super morbidly obese" woman, which appears to be the medical term for ultra fat chick.

In the end, we got over it and did have fabulous sex, which was good as Tall-Hunky-Groomsman-Bee's bucks and hens is this weekend and I won't see him until Sunday night now :( (Friday morn now)

So that was my underwhelming V Day.

Valentines

Card. Expensive Lingerie. Dinner. Wine. Champagne.

Nice Restaurant. Holding hands. Chocolate. Sex.

What's missing!? Could it be the orgasm? Could it? Could it????? I, I, I think it is!!!

Holy macaroni! I know the cardinal rule is not to mention dissatisfaction whilst you're still actually IN bed, but the point is, if I've actually pointed it out, I want the situation fixed! Pah. Can't remember after that. Must have fallen asleep. Much frustration. I guess thats why everyone hates Valentines day!! Mine was moments away from being 100% perfect! And instead I am super grumpy-girl today. I woke up and DreamBee looks at me and says - are you still mad at me? With puppy dog eyes. The problem is I'm not mad, I'm..? I don't know! But it ain't good. Grumble. Big grumble.

In other news, how was the warming?

x Agent Vee for Valentines' Vipes

PS I forgot to mention that the good morning blow-job means that he came twice in one day whilst I am still out of commission. Perhaps that is adding to my grumbles? I think Yes.