Happy V.D.

CoWorker: “Do you have plans for Valentine’s Day?

ME: (obviously caught of guard) “Not really…the usual, pop in Pretty Woman and devour mass quantities of Dove Dark Chocolate Hearts while reading the wrappers to my cat… you?”

CoWorker: “My husband and I don’t do much any more for this holiday. I hope to get a peck on the cheek or perhaps dinner out.”

ME: “The ole VD is just not high on his list, huh?”

I should pause here to give a background on my need to use acronyms for everything, like my time is just so stinking valuable that I can’t give you a full word. I abbreviate things and use initials all the time. I think the whole ‘Bennifer, Brangelina, Tomcat thing was stolen from me.

CoWorker: “He isn’t the type to get all mushy and give me a…how did you say it… VD gift.”

She said VD with her hands in mock quotes around it.

I lost it.

She, however, remained very professional and didn’t acknowledge I just made it sound like genital warts or the human papilloma virus wasn’t high on his list. She also didn’t acknowledge that she basically admitted to me that she wouldn’t be getting VD from her husband. Her mind was certainly not on the bottom dwelling scum of the gutter level that mine was. My head was hurting trying to suppress the childish laughter that was bubbling up. She on the other hand did not notice and this only added fuel to my childish fire.

I let out a snorting type of buffoon laugh.

I then spent the next 10 minutes apologizing and trying to make myself look like I had some upbringing and that I was indeed 32 and deserved to work in this office. The more I talked, the more I derailed this mission. I said things like, “I don’t know why I always use acronyms… I guess it sounded like I was trying to say venereal disease or something…der…I don’t know why I am so giggly…must be a long day… I am a little punchy.” I even pulled out the big guns and went with, “I just heard a joke about VD”. Nothing I did helped my cause. I was a mixture of nervous laughter and erratic hand gestures.

She remained calm with a hint of a polite smile. She did say, “oh, that is kind of funny.” But, she said it in a - ‘I think you’re kind of immature and I don’t know what else to say, why don’t you just shut up’ kind of way. Her teeth were a little clenched and I felt almost sorry for her. She needed to get away from me and didn’t know how to leave without being rude.

Thankfully the phone at my desk rang. Relief filled the air as she saw her chance to make a run for it. I could tell she was dying to consult her copy of The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People or Who Moved My Cheese to calm her nerves and figure out how to best deal with me. I imagined her in her office pumping a glop of Purell on her hands to rid herself of the germs of juvenile stupidity that obviously befell her in our polite conversation.

VD…hee hee I said VD.