That One Valentine's Day When I was Half-Naked and Completely Drunk. By Myself.

I've been awfully quiet about Valentine's Day, have I not? Usually I'm on the next morning with butterflies and rainbows and pics to prove it. 

But ah, not this time. Let's recap shall we? Remember how I mentioned in my last post that I had an "off-the-wall surprise" for Clay? Well it was of the more ... intimate ... variety.

Family, you're probably going to want to stop reading now.

We rarely do gifts on Valentines, usually it's just a bottle of wine and a card. Well I guess just a card, since the bottle of wine is a pretty normal occurrence. But I wanted this Valentine's Day to be memorable.

So I decide to act out something I read about in Cosmo many years ago: rent a room in a seedy by-the-hour motel and greet my surprised husband wearing nothing but a smile and heels. (Well, and knickers, because to be completely honest, I was nervous about my bare lady parts actually coming into contact with any thing in that room.)

I called Clay that morning, and mentioned how I just dropped our daughter off at school and oops, looks like she does have a Valentine's program. At noon. Can he make it? Wink, wink.  He's sorta flustered because he's already leaving early to make our son's afternoon Valentine party, but yes, he can rearrange a few things and make it.  

Did I forget to mention that I'm trying to plan a sexy romp immediately prior to our son's ice cream social? I wasn't really thinking logistics at this point.

I call a couple places beforehand to reserve a room, and run into a bit of trouble here; I come to the conclusion that establishments of this nature may not have big advertising budgets because their presence on google is nonexistence. Thanks to the help of my bestfriend, I finally track down a motel that does, in fact, rent rooms by the hour, but they don't do reservations; it's a walk-in kind of thing. Ok, that's fine. I get ready, pack extra sheets (because you just never know), load up the ipod, grab the wine, and head out.

I get to the ... interesting ... motel on the ... interesting... side of town, and walk into the office, trying to look as unembarrassed as possible. HI. I'M HERE TO RENT A ROOM. BY THE HOUR. FOR ME. AND MY HUSBAND. WE'RE MARRIED. TO EACH OTHER. I'm babbling, which is ineffective considering the very very old man at the desk apparently speaks very very little English.

I  hand him my debit card and I'm pretty positive I'm his only patron who's ever tried to pay for a by-the-hour room with a card.  He stares at it for a full minute, runs it, then tells me it was declined. ARE YOU SURE? HOW MUCH DID YOU RUN IT FOR? Twenty dolla. THAT'S HOW MUCH YOU RAN IT FOR? OR DID YOU INCLUDE INCIDENTALS? CAN YOU RUN IT AGAIN? I HAVE MANY TWENTY DOLLAS IN MY ACCOUNT. He now stares at me for a full minute, repeats "twenty dolla", re-runs the card, and again, declined.

In hindsight, I fully believe this was a message from St Valentine himself, trying to stop this train before it fully derails.

But not knowing this, I trudge on. I run to an ATM, easily withdraw $20, return to the office, give the man my money, and he leads me to the room where the magic is going to happen. Cue cheesy porn music: brownchickbrowncow.

I text Clay's coworker, asking her to stall Clay from leaving for (what he thinks is) our daughter's program until I call him. She texts back that he's already left. Of course the first time in his life that he leaves for something on time would be today... Next I text Clay, I need help, I have no signal and can't call, but I have a flat tire at this address, please come pick me up. Now. First. Before Em's party.  Then I start changing into my Valentine knickers. 

That's when I notice the room is unnaturally bright, like highschool-gymnasium bad-florescent totally-unflattering bright. And there's no lamp, just that one god-awful overhead bulb. For $20, I expect a damn lamp, thankyouverymuch.  No worries though, I brought a candle. But no matches. WHO FORGETS THE MATCHES? Anything is better than this light though, so I shut it off and am engulfed in total darkness. I open the curtains in the room's only window slightly and find that this one window faces the motels bustling "courtyard", which is filled with all sorts of interesting patrons engaging in all sorts of interesting things. 

WHERE IS CLAY. It's been ten minutes since I texted him and have heard nothing back. What if I really had a flat time? Or WHAT IF I'M NEARLY NAKED WAITING IN A MOTEL ROOM FOR A ROMP? I open the wine, pour myself a healthy glass, and call him. No answer. I call Emerson's school, and explain that when my husband shows up for our daughter's made-up Valentine program, please tell him to check his messages because his poor wife has a flat tire.

I wait another 20 minutes, texting and calling Clay, drink another heaping glass of wine, and try to figure out how to shut off the room's decrepit heating and cooling unit because it's a nippy 58 degrees in the room.

At 12:40, forty minutes into our allotted sixty minute "date", guess who shows up? My long lost husband. He's greeted with a half naked, drunken crying wife.

After his initial confusion with all his what-are-you-doing-on-this-side-of-town, but-what-about-Em, and where-are-your-clothes questions, he realizes that this was an impromptu rendezvous, but to be completely honest, I WASN'T FEELING IT ANYMORE. You just don't keep a half-naked lady waiting, folks, you just don't.

He spends the next few minutes consoling me, explaining how he was sitting in the parking lot of Em's school, waiting for me. He couldn't answer my calls because he was on the other line with work (a meeting he was phone-conferenced in since he had to miss it physically to make Em's "party") and his piece. of. shit. first generation iPhone is so old, it no longer buzzes when he gets texts.

Right when we decide to salvage our last ten minutes, someone walks by - and briefly peeks in!  MOOD. RUINED.  We get dressed, pack up, and head out.  I don't even have to check out because I was never given a room key!

My apologetic Valentine then takes me for coffee to sober up a bit before we have to party with 26 kindergarteners at 2pm. We laugh, I fix my tear-streaked mascara, and he makes me promise that I plan this again, only with him knowing in advance.

Lessons learned: Cosmo may not give the best advice, spontaneity is best implemented when it's fully planned and agreed upon by both parties, and Clay is getting a new iPhone. ♥