GettyBy Tom Chiarella
Long ago, on a Valentine's Day which I forgot until ninety minutes before I was due to meet my date, I called my friend Dorothy - the most mechanically adept, least romantically spontaneous woman in the world - and begged for her help. There were three reasons to call her: 1) She had once told me that she wished "every day was Valentine's Day," so I would have her enthusiasm; 2) she liked to brag that she could fix anything in half an hour or less; and 3) she worked in a movie theater where she was known to sometimes offer her friends private, late-night screenings, which were essentially excuses for sexual congress of one sort or another, while Dorothy looked the other way. I had a vague hope that it might not be too late for option number three.
Now let me say, this woman worked. She was not some college kid drowsily shoveling out upsize popcorn in miniature barrels, nor did sheRead More »from How to Nail Valentine's Day