The many careers of a starving Artist. (Well it just sounds better than a well fed artist)

So I was sitting at Starbucks, because like, everyone seems to like the employees at Java Alexia better, so there was lots of room for me on the couches here and I wanted to point out to the man quizzing Joe, that maybe the reason sales were way down was because JOE told Alexia he'd arrest her for coming to work. How Joe did not expect negative consequences is really beyond me.

Anyway, with today being all about Valentines, I decided to take a sick day, so I could hide from Brian. Which had me thinking about all the jobs I had had, thinking for some strange reason I needed to struggle to be a artist.

At sixteen I got this idea that since I still kind of looked twelve, that getting a date wouldn’t happen, so why not make money. I ran out and put in applications everywhere, thinking that most people wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day, so people would need hard workers. I remember being all excited because a florist needed someone to deliver all those many soon-to-be-dead flowers. So I borrowed my mom's Beamer and took the job. Can I say it led to lots of disappointed customers? See, here's the thing, people know the money sucking day is coming, you’re even getting a month before your expected to spend better than Christmas. So unlike a smart person, the people try to spend as little as possible to say ‘I love you’. So instead of the long stem red roses, with a diamond tennis bracelet and a twenty pound box of chocolate, they get something called a crazy daisy and a giant Hershey Kiss. It does not get the person sending it the whole hot monkey sex they most likely hoped for, and me trying to explain that it's the thought that counts usually didn't get a great tip. Which made the whole working for tips thing not as great as it sounds. It also might have had something to do with me sneezing all over the flowers as I handed them to the person. The thing is, I like the whole creativeness of hacking up flowers and shoving them in the vase.

So when the florist called me the next year, I told her yes but only if I got to make the flowers, because I just couldn’t face the disappointment of people seeing a half dead rose in a vase. She seemed to not care as long as she had help. So once again I was excited for the whole giving people love in a vase. Only problem was, when people were giving me orders I was thinking of lunch, and well, I might have taken the orders wrong, but my flowers were kick ass. You need an example, it didn’t turn out great, and the guy wasn’t thrilled when the wife got the vase, but it’s not my fault that he ordered them from me and I kind of sent the mistress the wife's boring carnations, and the wife the mistress’s three dozen red roses with the card for the mistress. I was sure he meant to give the woman who bore the kids the good present. The wife did send a thank you card after getting half of everything in the divorce. So I decided after about the tenth wrong order, to maybe get out of the flower business.

So when I entered college, I decided that I needed to work somewhere to feed my artistic muse. You know, as much as I tried, I just couldn’t get my muse to agree that checking people out at the grocery store was the place it would flourish. I ended up getting fired because you know, on Valentine’s Day, people like buy lots of condoms and because of my past experience with the whole flower biz, I knew those suckers might end up balloons if I didn’t explain to each guy who came by to pick up the could be potential water balloons that they need to get the forty dollar roses, not the ten dollar ones. Apparently holding the box up and the flowers they would get laid with, seemed to cause a problem. Then after getting kind of what Joe over there was getting, I tried to just give them customer service, like I was told. I mean you tell someone to have a good time and use the condoms or buy the pregnancy test next to it and they kind of get bitchy. I didn’t manage to keep that job more than a few hours.

Maybe that’s why I’m here making coffee today, because you know, I felt like I needed to do the whole muse thing again, and Joe needs to stop looking at me like he’s going to get a restraining order. I mean I only get up off the couch and make his almost non existent customer base coffee so the district guy can keep yelling at him.

Back on the couch, I had decided that I needed to get Brian something that isn’t going to make him think I forgot this most important day. Emmett seemed to think that anything cute and furry might have me sleeping on his couch. MM told me to view Valentine’s Day as Brian’s allergy. Ted just told me that he values his job and refused to help me with anything that could cause said job to disappear. I didn’t ask the squad because they seem to think that Brian should have to get me things. Please, the man bought the house, the car, and the new cat tree, which to me said ‘I love Justin so much that I should get a break’. (I left the ring out because engagements should be considered their own kind of holiday).

So I’m really hiding here in case he didn’t like what I got him.

BRIAN

I walked into hell. It’s the only thing that could think of to describe what was in my office. There were stuffed bears with signs that said things like “I love you with all my butt because it's bigger than my heart”. The massive amounts of chocolate just made the gym something in Justin’s future. Clearing the crap off my desk, I start to wonder if Justin just went to Big Q and bought out the Valentine's Day section.

“Um, you have a delivery.” Cynthia tells me, I can tell it's taking everything she has not to laugh.

“Hello, Mr Kinney.” The PJ'S walk in.

When they started singing about the greatest love of all inside of me, I just couldn’t sit there. Getting up and going to his office to find out what he was thinking, I find a note, saying he was taking a sick day? This is why he will never be in charge of anything.

“Justin. loft. NOW.” I text

“I'm having my period.” He sends.

You know I just couldn’t send my response in a text. GPS it is. I should have known he'd hide there. He was just where he seems to hide lately. I didn’t want to hear anything, so I tossed him over my Justin transport system and carried him to the car. He didn’t have to smile about this.

“So, did you like the song?” He asks.

“So I knocked you up?” I ask.

“What?” He looks up skunks every other search and didn’t look up that song?

“Did you like the whole three tiered fudge cake?” He asks.

“Where was that, because the two hundred teddy bears most likely covered it.” I tell him.

“Please, there were only thirty, and the PJ’s were supposed to bring it in after serenading you.” He tells me.

“I guess I missed that, since I needed to see if the test was positive.” I tell him.

“Are you sick or something?” He asks, looking concerned, and you know I should just expect this from him by now.

I just ignored anything else because Justin will most likely tell me something that I don’t want to know. He got out of the car and ran to the loft ahead of me. I stood on the sidewalk, praying that I somehow don’t act like an asshole because he did something for Valentine’s Day. I finally feel like I can at least thank him for trying, and walk into the building, groaning when I hear soft music coming from the loft.

Opening the door, there are candles lit everywhere and a very nervous Justin standing in the middle.

“So the other stuff was like a way to get you here. I wanted to ask you something.” Justin tells me, looking nervous.

I didn’t say anything but walked to him. Kissing him because I have a feeling he needs that from me.

“Will you be my Valentine for the rest of my life?” He asks me.

“Yes Mr. Taylor, I will.” I tell him.

You know, I didn’t mind Valentine’s Day anymore when Justin took my hand and put on the other ring that had been waiting for him to be ready for this.