How I Love you Gogo, Let me Count the Ways

Posted on: February 8th, 2012

What big hearts they have. Gogo is giving away a $10,000 Valentine’s snuggle jaunt to the bard with the most florid description of how they would spend a weekend away with that special someone.

What perfect timing for I have just entered into a mutually beneficial romantic entanglement with a woman by the name of Eloise.  We met online on a message board for hydroponic gardening enthusiasts. She was able to troubleshoot some pH issues impacting my heirloom tomatoes.  A few flirtatious emoticons later and we were changing our social networking relationship status. A Valentine’s getaway would be a perfect way for us to actually meet in person.

Enjoy my description of a truly blissful tryst. It has yet to be given approval by Eloise, but I can’t see how she could take issue with such a lovely sentiment.

We take separate flights, business class, and meet at a car rental kiosk, I wearing a purple ascot and she a violet in the lapel of her red, wool pea coat. We rent a 4-door sedan with seat warmers and passenger climate controls so that we can dictate our own thermal experience. We proceed from the airport forthwith to our accommodations: a rustic cabin in Redwood National Park. Once we have unpacked in our separate rooms, we are just meeting for the first if you must know, we go in search of a locally owned grocery store to purchase sundries and supplies.

After loading up on wine, cheese, smoked fish, and olives, we pack a picnic lunch. I have rented burrows and a local guide to lead us through the dense forest. The age and size of the trees place us both in a trance, only broken when we unpack our lunch on the flannel blanket that I used to tie up our cutlery.

Our guide eats an apple while propped on a rock outcropping as we dine leisurely. I feed her a cracker with smoked salmon and cream cheese. She laughs as the cracker threatens to fall from her mouth onto her yellow fleece vest.

When we arrive back at the cabin, she says she needs a warm bath. I take the opportunity to rock on the porch and blog on my tablet about our first real date. I shower after she has cleaned up; I can hear her plucking the decorative banjo that was resting on the fireplace mantel. We play cards in front of the fire and talk about what we would do in the face of a robot uprising.

I kiss her lightly on the cheek, thank her for a lovely day, and we retire to our separate rooms with double beds. I drift off while reading a biography about Ansel Adams.