My First Valentine's Day

This past Valentine's Day was the first ever I got to spend with my now husband, Bobby. I say the first I got to spend with him because, though we new each other the previous year, he spent it on a date with my best friend and future bridesmaid, a story for another blog.
So, being as this was a special day, we made plans with another couple we know to go to a romantic Italian dinner. Let me set the mood.
We are driving to our friend's house and I begin to notice that Bobby's talking a little funny. I ask him if he's feeling ok, but his response is a bit slurred. I begin asking the standard questions, did you drink anything? smoke anything? what day is it? year is it? whose the president? Bobby got quite angry with me for giving him the '3rd degree'. I told him I'd stop asking questions as soon as he got one right!
After informing me it was Wednesday, February 13, 2008, the president was Sarah Palin who ran against Joe Biden and that we were on our way home, we discovered that he had mixed up his heart medication with his sleeping medication. Oh yeah, he has heart problems.
So, we continue on and figure he'll just be a little sleepy at dinner. If only this were true!
We picked up our friends, Kevin and Devin (yes, their names rhyme, no, they are not both men). Bobby got a little more tired on the way to the restaurant until we got inside, and needed some help reading the menu and ordering.
Here's where the real fun begins.
The waitress informed us when Kevin and Devin each ordered a beer that she was not allowed to serve alcohol to people already intoxicated, referring to Bobby. On five separate occasions, he said he was going to the bathroom and, a number of minutes later, we found him wandering around outside or just staring at the streetlamp. A few times, he didn't say anything at all, just got up and wandered around. He tried to eat, he really did, but his fork just couldn't find his tired little mouth. After repeatedly stabbing the table next to his plate, attempting to acquire food, he finally got an entire piece of veal on it. After this massive piece of meat fell into his lap, he continued to shove the empty fork into his mouth, completely unaware that the rest of us are scrambling to hold napkins under him and avoid peeing ourselves with laughter. We asked if he'd like to leave, but he said he was feeling fine, and I'd have to say he was probably feeling pretty good.
Bobby insisted on ordering dessert, so we extended the show. He put an entire ice cream sundae, whipped cream and all, on a spoon and in and around his mouth. Really more around seeing as he forgot to open his mouth.
Upon taking our friends back home, I told them that we should probably be going to get Bobby to bed. Of course, Bobby was quite frustrated that I made this decision for him, promptly forgot what we were talking about and leaned in for a kiss, missed, and drooled on my shoulder.
When we arrived home, I put Bobby to bed. I took off his shoes and his pants and his coat and put the covers on him and reflect on the day. I think about how much I love him and how interesting this chapter will be in the book I write one day, and then I feel something in his coat pocket.
Inside Bobby's jacket pocket is a piece of pizza.
We did not order pizza at the restaurant, but they do serve it. I sat in awe and wonder, knowing he took it off someones table. My questions go unanswered to this day, because he does not remember the nights events. Was there someone sitting at the table he took it from? Were they done with their meal? Was this the only item, or just the only one he saved? Was it from the restaurant we were eating at, or the pizza place across the parking lot? Answers we'll never know, but I will laugh every time I see him eat pizza.
Stay tuned for the next story, maybe tragic, maybe ironic, maybe just weird, but always funny and true.