Valentine Surprise Ended In A Night Of Regret

He said, “I have something special for you. Come home tonight.”

When your boyfriend tells you on Valentine’s Day that he has something special planned, your mind races with possibilities. I found myself wondering, “Could it be a new phone?” That seemed unlikely since I received one last Valentine. “Is he going to buy me a car?” That felt like a far-fetched dream. “Or maybe it’s a diamond ring. Could he be proposing?”

I was eager for the evening to arrive so I could discover what the surprise was. I sat at my desk, watching the clock and counting down the seconds. I was anxious, but time seemed to crawl.

As soon as the clock struck 5 PM, I grabbed my bag and hurried home to prepare for the night. I slipped into my favorite dress and put on my red heels. I even picked out a nightie, just in case. It was Valentine’s Day, and one could never predict how the heart might sway.

I knocked on his door, but there was no answer. I knocked again and again. Then I saw a call from him on my phone. “Are you the one knocking on the door?” I asked. “Are you expecting anyone else?” He finally opened the door and said, “I wanted to make sure it was you. You know how friends can drop by unexpectedly.”

I settled in, waiting for the surprise. He said, “Tonight, we’re celebrating Valentine’s right here, and I’ve cooked something for us.” He took my hand and led me to another room where he had set everything up beautifully. It was clear he had put a lot of thought into it. I asked him, “Did you really cook this yourself, or did you order it? Did you have someone else prepare it for you?”

I knew Jackson well. We had been dating for two years, and he had never mentioned cooking before. So yes, I was genuinely surprised, just as he intended. We enjoyed a few drinks before the meal. The aroma was enticing and exotic. I couldn’t believe he had made it until I took my first bite. It was overly spicy and packed a punch. Clearly, he thought that more spices meant better flavor.

I didn’t want to crush his culinary spirit by telling him how bad the food was, so I maintained a straight face and pretended it was the best meal I’d ever had. Every few minutes, he would ask, “Are you enjoying the meal?” I would simply nod. It was tough to eat, but I did my best. Eventually, we finished, and he served ice cream, which I indulged in to wash away the lingering taste of the food.

We watched a movie together, and he read me a poem he had written in a card. It was a sweet surprise, and I appreciated it wholeheartedly.

Afterward, we took a bath and went to bed.

That’s when the real ordeal began.

Around 1 AM, I rushed to the bathroom. Just three minutes later, he knocked, saying, “Please hurry up, it’s an emergency.” He came in as soon as I finished. About an hour later, I woke up to find he was gone. I heard the toilet flush and entered just as he came out.

We both lay in bed, unable to sleep. Then he started farting, and I couldn’t help but respond. He would let one rip, and I would follow suit. Soon, he would dash to the bathroom, and I would follow. At one point, he joked, “Maybe we should just bring the bed into the bathroom to avoid this marathon.” I asked, “Is this part of the surprise too?” He replied, “I’m surprised myself. Maybe something went wrong. I got the recipe online.” I said, “You did your best. We’ll get some medicine tomorrow, and we’ll be fine.”

He tried to surprise me, but in the end, he surprised himself too. I loved the care he put into his plans and the thought behind the surprise. Things didn’t go as expected, but we had a wonderful time together.

Last year, he called to say he was going to cook something for my birthday. I told him, “We have kids now. I can’t risk burying them the next morning. We can just drink water for my birthday, and I’ll be fine.” I couldn’t take that chance. Once bitten, twice shy.

—Chichima,

#MyHappyValentine