Part 2: The Valentine's Day Gift From Hell

Welcome back, Bloggies! For the first time in my history as a blogger, this will be a "Part 2" to my story from yesterday.  So please feel free to refresh your memory on Part 1, then come back for the dramatic conclusion of "The Valentine's Day Gift From Hell."

We left off with me in a huge state of disappointment after receiving a cactus and 24-pack of Dr. Pepper for Valentine's Day...

I leave Ex's room that Valentine's Day morning, needing to talk to someone. Anyone. The build-up that I have self-imposed on this mystery present has backfired worse than a high school kid's hooptie, and I need to share my grief with someone. 

I get on the elevator with my newly acquired cactus in my hand and Dr. Pepper at my feet. As the elevator rises to my floor, I try desperately to see the silver lining in this whole situation. Yes, I have been given a crap gift, but at least I now have 24-days worth of tasty Dr. Pepper to enjoy, right? It could be worse.

When I arrive in my room, my roommate, Erin, is getting ready for class. Naturally, she’s dying ot see what w "the sweater gift" turned out to be. (I may or may not have told everyone I know that my present is going to be "amazing".)  After I relay the story, Erin is very understanding and even manages to stop laughing after only three minutes.

We decide the best thing to do is move forward with our plan for Valentine's Day as though none of this has happened. Or at least try to pretend it hasn't happened, because the prickly green thing on my bookshelf is an ever-present reminder.

You see, back in January, Erin and I decided to go all out for our boyfriends' Valentine's Day gift this year. First, we would each create and paint a special box and fill it with 365 notes, one for each day of the year. Each note would contain a memory of our time together with our significant other. Something like "I love it when you carry my books" or "I love when you GIVE ME A DECENT GIFT FOR VALENTINE'S DAY".  Then we would give the box to our boyfriends while dressed up in questionable Victoria's Secret lingerie.

(And by Victoria’s Secret, I totally mean JC Penney.)

(Also, just to clarify, we would each give these gifts to our boyfriends separately, not at the same time.  We weren't that kinky.)

Unfortunately, after this particular morning, I'm feeling less than thrilled about the impending evening. Erin insists that I need to suck it up and move on. I can hardly be romantic if all I'm thinking about is how much Ex has disappointed me today.  Besides, this is my chance to show him what a real gift from the heart looks like. He can watch and learn.

Around 5:00, Erin leaves to go pick up her boyfriend for dinner. Ex's shift at the grocery store doesn't end until 9:00, so I now have four hours to kill. I do not spend them looking at the cactus.

When 8:00 rolls around, I perform some last minute preparations in my room to get ready for Ex's arrival. Candles lit (and totally illegal in the dorms, but so is a hot plate and I use that sucker every day), soft music playing, JC Penney lingerie on, lipstick applied, sexy position on the bed achieved. I’m ready.

And then the phone rings. I immediately recognize the number as Ex's cell and take the call.


"Hellllloo there.  Are you on your way to the dorm?" I ask in an attempted sexy voice.

"Uh...yeah."

My spine stiffens at the unfamiliar edge in Ex's voice, and I brace myself for what is coming.  In hindsight, there is no way I could have guessed.

"What's wrong, Ex?" I ask.  (In truth, I kind of want to ask if he's been fired for stealing floral arrangements, but I bite my tongue.)

"Well," he says. "You won't believe this." But I already know what it is. He's met someone. He's breaking up with me again for some Tri Delta that passed him in a cute top and spank-me heels.

"What?" I plead. "Just tell me, please," I'm trying so hard to remain calm.

"Um, you'll never believe what I just broke," he replies.  

Truth be told, I don't have a clue. A cactus planter?  My heart?

"I really don't know, Ex. What? Your teeth?” I respond, throwing out the most ridiculous thing I can think of. I don't have time for these stupid games. But then there is silence on the line. Followed by more silence.

"Actually, uh, yeah. My teeth," he breathes into the phone. "I think I need to go to the hospital."

Now I’m pissed. "Oh, HA HA, so hilarious!" I shout. "Ex, you've done this to me so many times, and it's so not funny! You didn't break your freaking teeth. Just hurry up and get here, you're ruining my present to you," I whine. I fiddle with the red ribbon strap on my lacy corset and check my butt for dimples in the mirror. There are several.

"No Kim," he whines. "I'm dead serious. I broke my two front teeth almost completely out. That's why I'm coming home early. I had to fill out a bunch of workman's comp forms and now I need to see a dentist or something."  

I am floored. How is this possibly happening?  Who breaks out their teeth on Valentine's Day? Furthermore, how?

"Ex, seriously. If this is a joke..." I take a moment and gather myself. He's done this before. There was that one time he called at 2:30 in the morning to ask me to bail him out of jail on a DUI. I had actually gotten into my clothes and was on my way to the car before he admitted it was a joke. Not to mention all the times he called to say he'd been in a car accident "just to see how sad I’d be.”

"Okay, fine, you broke out your teeth," I say.  "How? You work in the salad bar at a grocery store. Since when are cucumbers and ranch dressing fraught with danger?"

Silence.

"Um, well," he starts. "I wasn't in the salad bar when it happened," he says softly. "I was somewhere else."

"Where?  Where "somewhere else' were you?" I demand.

"I was in the Seafood Department."

(What?)

"You were in the Seafood department," I repeat, steadying my voice. "Why?  Seafood is on the total opposite end of the store. Why were you over there and how did seafood break your teeth out?"  

I'm becoming more and more convinced this is a joke and Ex is on his way over with a diamond ring. It will be the most elaborate proposal in history. People will laugh. They will cry. They will marvel at the intricate work that went into this charade. Stolen cactus, Dr. Pepper, broken teeth...proposal! I wonder how long my parents have been in on it.

"I was at the salad bar re-filling the veggies," Ex begins. "But the Seafood department guy was bored, and so was I. No one is buying groceries on Valentine's Day." 

(But some people steal cactus for Valentine's Day.)

I stand and listen in complete silence, still waiting for the punch line, my fingers tracing the word "ring" on the floral bedspread in front of me.

"So I go over to see John in seafood," he continues. "And we're talking. And then one of us came up with the idea to, um, to, uh..."  For Christ’s sake.

"To WHAT, Ex?  You did what?" He's worse than Ross on Friends getting his sentences out.

"We started playing...hockey."

"Hockey,” I repeat. “You were playing hockey. HOCKEY WITH WHAT?"

"A...frozen fish.  And some brooms."

Now I know he's telling the truth. There is no way ANYONE on this planet could fabricate something so ridiculous for a surprise engagement. Even him. I start to feel faint. I walk to the mirror and look at myself, dolled up in lingerie, waiting for the love of my life to come over so I can seduce him. I look ridiculous.

"Let me get this straight,” I say. “You put a frozen fish on the floor of the seafood department and played hockey with it?  Didn't customers see you?"  I ask, now kind of desperate to hear the rest of this story.

"Oh, no. We were in the back room. Nobody could see us.  I'm not that stupid."

I let that one go without comment.

"Okay," I say.  "What happened then?"

"Well, we had a pretty good game going," I can actually hear him smiling at the memory.  "And then the fish kind of got stuck between John's side and mine.  We both dove for it.  The seafood section is really cold and wet - and I slipped. When I went down, my two front teeth caught on one of the metal seafood prep tables, and now they're broken really bad."

I am officially rendered speechless.  My boyfriend has gone above and beyond the levels of stupidity to completely ruin my faith in men for all eternity. He couldn't just go to work, finish his shift and come home with a 2 carat sparkler, could he? Oh no. He had to go to work, get bored, and play like Wayne Gretzky on a floor covered in NEMO GUTS and break out his most important molars.  Now my sexy outfit and adorable present aren't even going to matter. Can you even kiss a man without two front teeth?

I glance at the clock and see that it's nearly 8:30. All of the urgent care medical places are closed, and certainly no dentist will be open at this hour. My motherly instinct has officially kicked in. (It’s not the last time I will need it while dating Ex, either.)

"All right, Ex,” I say, my voice calm. “Just come straight here and we'll figure out what to do. Are you in pain?" I ask.

"Yeah," he replies weakly. "It hurts more every second.  I've got to get some pain meds or something."

"Well," I say slowly. "Make sure you have your insurance card for if we go to the hospital, okay?” 

"I need insurance?" For the love of Pete.

"Just get here.”

Four minutes later, I’ve changed out of my polyester Penney’s get-up and there is knock at my door. Ex has already called back twice to make me promise not to laugh when I see him.  I have assured him that the last thing on earth I am in the mood to do is laugh. 

As soon as he crosses the threshold to my room, I tell him to open his mouth so I can see the damage first hand. I'm also still holding onto a small shred of hope that the whole thing is a hoax. It isn't. As he opens his mouth, I notice that the teeth are not completely broken out, but at least 50% of one tooth is gone, and about a third of the other.  He definitely needs medical attention. And possibly mental...for another time.

"All right then," I say decidedly. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" he asks, incredulous.

"Obviously the ER, Ex. You're still bleeding, and I can tell you're in pain."

"Well...what's that?" He motions to the corset on the bed. 

"It was part of your present," I sigh. "As was that," I point toward the box of memories.  "But that doesn't matter right now. Erin and her boyfriend will be here in an hour to "use" the room and we're supposed to be long gone by then. Obviously we aren't going to do what I had planned, so we'll go to the ER instead."

Ex looks at me with weepy eyes. "I'm really sorry," he whispers. "I love you for taking care of me."

I shake my head. "I know you are, Ex. I know you are. But we can't do anything about it now. I would say I hope you learned a lesson, but what would it be?  Don't play fish games when you're on the clock? I would've thought you'd known that by now."

I motion for him to head out the door and he goes begrudgingly. As I lock the door behind me, I can't help but wonder if anyone else is having a night like this. My guess is no.

Within 40 minutes, Ex has been taken into the ER and is being examined. I survey the patients in the waiting room with me. Some have bad colds, one guy has a sliced hand from a romantic Valentine’s meal gone bad. I can't imagine that any of them are here because their boyfriend is a lousy fish hockey player.

When Ex reappears, he is armed with a prescription for pain meds and instructions to see a dentist first thing in the morning.  My instructions are to get him whatever he needs and make sure he's comfortable for the rest of the night.

Just what I want to do.

In an effort to apologize, Ex takes me to Chili's for dinner, though he's unable to eat anything and I therefore feel guilty eating. Needless to say, I don't use my lingerie and the memory box isn't nearly as well received as I had hoped. Mostly because Ex is falling asleep from the pain meds.

Truthfully, that wasn't the only Valentine's Day with Ex where everything went to hell in a hand basket, but it was definitely the worst. Recalling it now, I still can't believe it happened. I'm sure neither can he. There are so many more adventures, holidays and non, that you wouldn't believe Ex got me into.  But they're all true and at least it makes for interesting memories.

As I said earlier, this whole blog entry started because I wanted to compare the  "worst Valentine’s gift ever" stories.

I win, people. I sooooooo win.

 XOXO,