I honestly couldn’t believe he asked me out—and of all days, Valentine’s Day. I was planning an evening with my best girlfriends: drinking wine, binge-watching One Tree Hill, and eating everything in sight. It would have been enough for me, but now that I have a chance to go out with a GUY on Valentine’s Day— I’m taking him up on the offer. We have a few classes together, but I don’t know very much about him. Oh well, a dates a date.

No matter what a girl says, she is always excited to get asked out on Valentine’s Day. The flowers, the candy, the music—everything has dreamed of since she saw it happen on the Disney Channel shows she used to watch when she was a child.

I’m like every other girl when I say I am ecstatic at the thought of us being together within the next five hours; just enough time to get ready.

After I shower, I start with my hair. I blow-dry my brown locks so it looks as though I have more than my average volume, then I start curling. After each strand of hair is perfectly curled, I take a big brush to it to make it look like I didn’t try too hard. Then I move on to my makeup. I’m thinking nothing too dramatic, but I don’t want to look like a twelve-year-old either, so I went for a half-smoky eye. I look at the clock quick to see I only have two hours left. I’m going to be so late if I don’t hurry up.

Thankfully, I bought an emergency just-in-case-I-get-asked-outon- Valentine’s Day dress. It’s white, with small red hearts on it. I throw it on carefully over my not-too-perfect hair, and look in the mirror. Not bad, could be better.

I eat a bowl of Lucky Charms quickly so I don’t look too hungry at the restaurant he’s taking me to. I look at the clock, only 30 minutes left. I better brush my teeth and look myself over one more time. Right at 7 o’clock, I jump into my car. I’ll get to his house a little late, but then I won’t seem too eager.

I get to his house, and knock on the door. He’s taking entirely too damn long. Maybe he’s lighting candles for a romantic dinner. He finally opens the door and I look over his outfit. I could tell he’s doing the same thing to me. He’s wearing sweatpants and a Denver Broncos t-shirt.

“Nice dress, you look great,” he said.

“Wish I could say the same thing,” I said under my breath.

“What?”

“Oh, I said you look good too.”

“I figured I would cook us dinner, and then we could watch movies. How does that sound?”

I must have looked incredulous, because he said quickly, “Or we could do something else?”

“Oh no. That-that will be fine.” I couldn’t help but stammer, surprised as I was.

We walk through his house to the kitchen. First glance: no candles, no flowers, no candy. What-the-hell.

At least the food smelled good. I look over his shoulder as he starts pulling dishes out of the oven. Steak already grilled, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Well that’s impressive.

“So, um, what do you think of Jones’ class?” he asked as we were taking the first few bites.

“Um, it’s okay,” I reply. I don’t want to be talking about classes.

Shouldn’t you be confessing your true feelings to me—how long you have liked me, how good I look, anything.

As we finish the meal, he pulls conversation hearts out of his sweatpants pockets.

“I don’t have dessert, but I do have these.”

“That’s fine,” I said. Oh my god, these are my favorites.

“Should we watch a movie now?”

“Sure, we could do that.” I hope he’s not thinking about getting too cozy with me on that little couch of his.

I pick out The Notebook (still wrapped in plastic) from his collection.

Obviously, he bought this for tonight. Maybe he has it as an emergency just-in-case-I-invite-a-girl-over-for-Valentine’s Daymovie.

That’s kind of romantic.

I move to sit beside him on the couch, and he comes closer to me, putting one arm around me.

As Noah and Allie profess their love for each other, I smile at the thought of my high expectations. Tonight wasn’t my idea of a picturesque evening, but staying in with a homemade (maybe) meal, a classic movie, and getting to know a pretty cool guy was alright too.