V-DAY Winner-----------Read 1st page!!

I was in the 6th grade, and I don't know that I've ever given up quite so much to win the love of a fair maiden.
When 6th grade started I ended up with the same teacher I had in 5th. And she had me in mind when she set up the seating

chart. I was by the window in 5th grade and spent the whole year looking for birds, or snow, or clouds, or whatever and not

paying the least bit of attention to what was going on in class. So when 6th came around Miss Gibson put me as far from the

window as she could...but she wanted me up front so she could keep an eye on me so I was the first seat near the door. And, as the

first week or so went by I discovered that the class room across the hall contained the most beautiful little girl with pig tails, and as

luck would have it, she sat in the first seat too.
Now back then, deep in the dark ages, there wasn't any air conditioning so the doors had to be open in summer so some air could

work up the halls, and into the rooms, if you were lucky. And in winter there were steam radiators that were notoriously

unregulatable, so you had to open and close the classroom doors to keep from burning up! So that got to be my job. I would jump

up at Miss Gibson's command and open or close the door, as required. And I would always linger just a bit to leer at the pretty

pigtailed girl, and sometimes she would look back.
Now the classroom she was in was a 7th grade class, and she was about as obtainable as Miss America, but that didn't stop me

from staring at her all year long, at least when the doors were open which wasn't all the time. Some times when our door was

closed, and I had to get up to write on the board, I'd see thru the little square window those doors had, that her door was open. So

when I got back to my seat, I'd make a show off wiping my brow and sighing, then ask Miss Gibson if we could have the door

open....it sure is hot! Sometimes it worked.... actually it worked a lot of the time.
So I was able to fill my days looking at the pretty pigtailed girl, or contriving to look at the pigtailed girl, or hoping to be able to

look at her soon. But it was not always the case that both doors were open, and when they were I had to be extremely careful

about how I was dealing with all that success. I couldn't just stare at her. I'd get caught in an instant. I had to look without

looking. I had to feign a complete disinterest with what went on outside that door. So I developed a way of looking out the

corners of my eyes while appearing to be looking at Miss Gibson, or down at my book, or at the blackboard in the throes of mental

calculation. I fancied I could make one eye look one way while the other looked another. My guess now is that poor Miss Gibson

had given up on me and was leaving me alone to spend more time on more fertile ground, but who knows.....
And, anyway, I had a secret weapon. Near the end of the 5th grade my mother began to put a sour dill pickle in my lunch bag,

wrapped in wax paper and juicy and nice. I love a dill pickle to this day. Don't like cucumbers at all, but pickle them and I'm in.

Well, I'd eat lunch then save the pickle for last. We would eat lunch then go outside for recess for 45 minutes or so, and I

discovered I could chew on that pickle all though recess, nibbling out the inside and leaving the harder skin.....and before too long

I figured out I could save a quarter of it to chew on in class. That skin was like a vegetable beef jerky!

Danger, danger Will Robinson!!!

I guess you all know about chewing gum and what would happen if you were caught. Well, I could only imagine what fate pickle

chomping would bring. So I had to be oh, so careful, and just work it around like a chaw of tobacco, or pack it in my lip like snuff.

I found if I put my hand on my chin or cheek and gazed at Miss Gibson with rapped attention, I could work that thing pretty good,

and if I got a shot of pure sour, I'd sneeze, or rub my nose to hide the grimace. Some times I'd yawn when she was looking in my

direction so she could see in my mouth, if she wanted, and..yep, nothing there. It was great. I was getting away with murder, and

it gave me something to do during that hated school time. Pickle eating and pretty little pigtailed girl staring. Life was sweet!!
As the year went by I got bolder and bolder 'till finally I was packing half of the biggest pickle mother could find at the store into

my cheek and making that thing last all day. Pretty soon word got out and my mates were impressed beyond measure. At recess

I'd have to produce the pickle to prove my story. And kids from other classes would gather to see. I became obcessed with making

it last. More that once I'd be walking home before I'd finish that pickle off. And never got caught....at least not until the end of the

year.

Time was growing short. The little pigtailed beauty would be going off the high school and I needed to make my move! So...

about a week before summer vacation, I worked up the courage to talk to her. After school, I avoided my mates and went around

to a side door where I'd seen her exit before, and when I saw she was alone I followed her. And in what was the bravest thing I

may have ever done I came up behind her and said, "hey"!

She turned around and looked at me a moment, and said, "hey, you're that special needs kid that sits across the hall from me,

aren’t you? I've been watching you all year. What in the world is wrong with you?"
"Whaa...whaaa... what do you mean", I got out.
She was standing back aways and looking at me funny...."yeah, I've watched you. Your eyes seem to go off in different directions

and you are all the time puffing out your cheeks and grinding your teeth. My girl friend thinks you were born premature."
Well I was staggered. I’ve been noticed…but….Oh, great, the girl of my dreams thinks I'm a doofus!
So, shaky and nervous, I had to stand there and tell the pretty pigtailed girl about my pickle obcession (very mature) , while she

looked at me like she knew I was lying, and stood a ways back holding her books across her chest for protection.
After a while she began to show some real disinterest, so I worked out a plan with her to prove the pickle thing. Naturally I'd

eaten it in class that day, so I could be prepared to talk to her, and couldn't prove that I could chew on half a pickle, half the day, in

class, and not get caught. So we decided the next day, if the doors were open, I'd show her the pickle at 2 o'clock. She hurried off

glad to be rid of me, I expect, and I walked home in a dream fog over having talked to the pretty little pigtailed girl.
The next day, I left about a third of that days pickle uneaten when I got back to class. Her class had recess after mine did, so

when they came in and flopped down, their door stayed open and she was looking at me.. and the girl behind her was too...and the

girl in the next row also. It was early, but what the heck. I pushed that pickle out like a chewed up green tongue. I saw her eyes

open wide, and girl behind giggle and the one in the next row had a disgusted expression... and wham!!.... a ruler came down on a

desk and a voice said, "Tony, get up here this instant!" Caught red handed!! I saw the door across the way close while I was

getting up. That door was closing on my year, and maybe my life. I had risked my secret for love...and lost!
I never talked to the pretty pigtailed girl again, and after that week never saw her again. The word was out amongst the

teachers about the pickle boy, so I could never smuggle anything, much less a sour dill pickle into class again. I figured the next

would be an excruciatingly tedious year, with no pickle and no girl to look at and it didn’t seem I’d gotten much for my sacrifice.
Still, the little pigtailed girl's younger sister started to smile at me in the hall the next year, and I was pretty high in the other guys

eyes as the only boy to ever be caught for pickle smuggling. And my new teacher was a jock and put together a softball team to

compete with other schools.. and I could pitch, so some of us got to go to recess early every other day or so to practice for games on

school time.
And later in the year I fell in love with Marion, who didn't think I was a special needs kid, but wouldn't talk to me anyway...well,

she did in high school, but by then I was in love with Candy...or, really Candy was in love with me, and I had the hots for Julie..

but she was way out of my league, even more than the pigtailed girl...... and after that, through the years..well, lots of sex, but not

romance like the pickle incident. To this day that gal doesn’t have a clue what I gave up for her attention. T


Part 2...I would like a woman to put her hair up in pigtails and as she kisses me tell me how much that pickle taste turns her on! Tony

About four years ago, my BF and I were in the mood for love. At the time, we had our older kids at home so we decided to plan a romantic getaway in a quaint little town called New Hope, PA. We booked a room at a very nice bed and breakfast. At dinner, my BF leaned over the table to kiss me and lit his sweater on fire due to the fact there was a lit candle sitting on the table directly underneath him. No lie. Someone at another table saw him on fire and patted him out! LOL. They told him, "You're on fire!" He said, "I know."

Then later at 2 AM, when we went outside our room to have a quick smoke, I pulled the door shut after us. The only trouble was that the door had an automatic lock on it and we were locked out of our room in 28 degree weather, snow and ice on the ground, wearing nothing but our complementary robes and socks! So, I carefully padded over to the main house and rung the bell labelled "Bell for after hours assistance" and nothing. LOL. So I padded back to my shivering BF and he decided that he didn't care if he had to pay for damage, he would break the glass in the door and reach in and unlock it from the inside. So, I picked a big rock from nearby and he macho-ly hoisted it at the door.... It bounced off! At this point, we became hysterical with laughter. After several more attempts, we realized it was Plexiglas! More hysterical laughter.

Being the boyscout that he is, he pushed the french doors inward and wrangled them loose!

Well, we can always say that our getaway was eventful...

And I didn't even tell the naughty part about the wireless remote control battery operated device we took to dinner with us!

Woops, I just did.

Awwww Rox, that melts my heart.....

I know Roxy's got some hot racy stories in there somewhere..... Come on, Roxy- let 'em out to play!

Oh, folks, you come with such great stories that mine is almost nothing compared to yours!
Me and my half Ina gathered 20 years of marriage this year so we cannot beat Curt and Lady Texaswoodie. The most romantic moment I remember now is when we celebrated 10 years of marriage and we booked at the very same hotel where we spent our honey - moon (honey-week in fact) ten years earlier.
Another romantic fact is that we know each other and have been class-mates since the first grade.

Adrian

Thanks for the contest Amber, very nice and romantic idea!

Candlelit dinners. Bouquets of roses. Heart-shaped boxes of the finest chocolates.

Aren’t these what make every Valentine’s Day a dream come true? And aren’t these what every young girl dreams of and longs for?

Not this girl!

Candlelit dinners? Eating by candlelight tells me the power has gone out again and I am very likely to knock over my water glass or send my steak flying when I attempt to cut it.

Bouquets of roses? Why would I want 12 poor dead flowers? One is more than enough. Perhaps a plant instead; something I could nurture and love? I wasn’t standing in the right line when they were giving out green thumbs. I can’t even sustain artificial plants – I once went to check on a really pretty arrangement I had made only to discover all I had left were the plastic stems! A blustery wind had torn off all the petals and leaves!

Heart-shaped boxes of the finest chocolates? Have you ever tried to store a heart-shaped box? Won’t fit in a square peg or a round hole. And the finest chocolates? Give me a Hershey Bar any day over those naked lady thingies!! I don’t particularly care for paraffin in my chocolates!

I was never particularly fond of St. Valentine’s Feast Day. Always thought it was rather odd that we celebrated his very painful death – shot by how many arrows to the chest while tied to a tree? - by romanticizing it with Cupid’s bow and little lacey doilies.

So when I met Bob and discovered he pretty much shared my sentiments I was rather relieved.

Not that it wasn’t nice to receive a box of chocolate-covered cherries or to give him a Cadbury dark chocolate bar to celebrate the day!

But every once in a while, Cupid did intervene and Romance flared.

One of the most romantic Valentine’s of the 37 Bob and I shared came a few years back. I was the Education Specialist for a large Rehab Company and had been traveling throughout Florida giving clinical staff in-service training sessions for several days just before and up to February 14th. Any number of female therapists I met with joyously showed off the bouquets of roses their sweethearts had sent to them at their respective clinics (Ostentatious, to say the least! Would these same sweethearts send a dead trout to demonstrate their prowess at fishing and their ability to feed their beloved? I don’t think so! )

FINALLY, my presentations came to an end and I wearily began the long drive home, stopping somewhere along the way for some one of the many fast food items we really shouldn’t eat.

At last, I arrived home. As I opened the door, there to great me was a huge helium-filled heart balloon, tethered by a box of chocolate-covered cherries. Be still, my heart! Bob loved me!

And then my one-true-sweetheart told me: “Your boss called and wants you to check a message he sent you right away.”

Now isn’t that just what a tired, worn out lady wants to hear? But I knew my boss so I dutifully headed into my at-home office - clutching my balloon in one hand while struggling with the cellophane wrapper on my box of cherries! (Who seals these things anyway? Certainly not anyone with an understanding of a chocolate-lover’s addiction!!)

Bob distracted me as I flipped on the lights in my home office so I was looking over my shoulder as I entered the room. He had the cutest smile on his face and I had the most wicked thoughts of what I would do once I checked on my boss’s message!

And then I turned to my desk. And there it was! The MOST romantic of romantic Valentine’s gifts a girl could dream of!!! A state-of-the-art, all the latest bells and whistles, fully equipped computer with a big red bow sitting right up on top of a gorgeous new monitor!

And there you have it, Amber! One of the most romantic gifts I ever received on Valentine’s Day. A gift of true Love because it said: “I love you, Kate, unconditionally, and with all your quirks and with all your funny notions of what makes a truly romantic gift.”





As for a rock-hounding Valentine’s…Bob gave me a gift of assorted grits and assorted rock specimens from the Rock Shed last year. Now who could ask for anything more than my wonderfully romantic Bob?


Kate

The most romantic thing that occurred for me on Valentines day? Well… it was when the girlfriend drove up to the house with a mattress tied to the top of the car, a bottle of champagne in hand & basket of strawberries. Luckily, I had the candles !

And this is a link to message board thred for rock hound lovers only

www.datehookup.com/Forums.aspx?p=FORUMPOSTS&forumthreadID=124766&pageSize=15&startAt=16#2732815

Hmmm, actually it's hard for me to think of really romantic things my men have done for me.....

I have always been attracted to the bulldogs,,I like ugly, masculine, no nonsense men. Very rough around the edges. The first sign of any type of feminine quality whatsoever sends me running. Needless to say these are generally the type who don't go out of their way for grand romantic gesture, and I like it like that. Although I am sentimental about memories, I am not a big hearts and flowers girl and don't expect or even want big "to dos" on birthdays and Valentines Day. Please don't give me cards, I don't know what to do with them, and always feel guilty when I throw them away.

When David and I were married however, he used to do something that I loved,,,,my favorite flowers are the swamp lilies (spider lilies?) that grow here in the ditches and down in the bayou. They have the most beautiful smell. David knew how much I loved them and every spring he'd gather them for me all season long. We'd be driving down the road going somewhere and all of a sudden he'd pull over and say "Wait right here"....I'd watch him walk down into the wetlands and wade knee deep into the water to reach the lilies growing there. He'd pull out his knife and cut them until he had a big bouquet and bring them back to the truck. He'd always do the same thing,,,hand them to me, kiss me, and say "I love you, woman. I always will." That to me was more romantic than anything he could buy, and plans he could make for us, any trip we could take. My country man loved me and we'd go home and I'd put the flowers in the same old crockery pitcher with the crack in the top...they looked beautiful on out table in our little country home and they smelled so good and I felt so lucky to be his wife. That man walked around in wet boots all Spring just to gather flowers for me........



My perfect idea of a date for rockhounds would be to drive up into the mountains with our camping and diggin gear, set up camp and take a long hike, gathering interesting rocks and enjoying the outdoors. Afterwards we'd picnic while we fished for our supper on the river banks, once again collecting stones, this time the pretties we'd find on the riverbed. Swim a while, and then that night lay out on a blanket and some star watching, drinking a few we'd been keeping cold in the river and doing whatever else came naturally.