Never a big holiday for me…Until him…

Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate national and international holidays as much as the next guy. Kwanzaa, I’m on board. Memorial Day? What’s wrong with remembering? Hell, I make my personal New Year’s Resolutions when my new year commences in June with my birthday…But, Valentine’s Day? I’m the first to admit, as an adult, I was too cynical to think one day should be dedicated to romance; I think hugs, kisses, and romance should be afforded on a daily basis.

As a child, I loved going to the drugstore on the evening of February 13th to buy the boxes that included mass produced, one sided Valentine’s cards to be distributed to all of my classmates. Sometimes, there was an extra heart or drawing for little boys I might fancy or think cute. It was an all inclusive kind of celebration I appreciated (so much and many shapes of chocolate, my favorite) and I never really gave much thought to having my own personal valentine. Well, that was before I met him. The guy that is still seared on my heart and memory for how he saw me, how he made me feel on that holiday of all romantic holidays, and how he still serves as inspiration, 14 years later, when I write romantically and wax poetically.

I loved and still love to support charities and charitable initiatives any way I know how. Ironically, before I myself became embroiled in my own personal domestic violence snafu, I was knee deep into helping women who didn’t have a voice or were too petrified to speak with it as their own advocates against abuse. Working with an organization that was launching its first DV initiative, I was tasked with the assignment of finding a space to hold a fundraiser, so swanky, sophisticated and catering socially, that people might be inclined to donate their monies to this worthy effort.

Finding a location was not the easiest of tasks. Firstly, I was between living in Los Angeles and Las Vegas, which was a town where I had spent much of my youth and still had a home in the high desert. Nevada, unfortunately, leads the nation in domestic violence incidences and I was humbled to be given the responsibility to help victims, but more specifically, victims who were immigrants and may not know the language or the law well enough to make a case for their own safety and well being.

I thought of hosting my function in one of the backyards of the several wealthy women I knew yet strangely none of them seemed keen to host the function because (I assume) of the cause I was championing. One extraordinarily rich woman suggested she would use her contacts for a ballroom scenario in one of the hotels on The Strip versus the backyard of a 20,000 square foot home they used rarely for vacation. I politely declined. I could call in favors like that, but didn’t think a venue in a gambling den with libations flowing really sent the right message.

I discussed my dilemma often with friends and, one night, found myself invited to a very well known restaurant, one of the oldest in Hollywood. It reminded me that, months prior, I met a startlingly beautiful man in Las Vegas who had claimed to be one of the grandchildren of the original andsole owners. I asked the maitre’d if there was such a gorgeous guy from Las Vegas (or was he a mirage at The Mirage as suspected). I told him we had met in passing and he said he was affiliated with the establishment and, when I returned to my table, his younger brother arrived, moments later. He was the congenial manager and engaging and when I spoke of what I did between LA (Screenwriting) and Las Vegas (Living), he advised that I should reach out to his older brother and ask his advice as to where to host my fundraiser.

Not sure that he would remember me, I vacillated over sending an email when I returned to Vegas, which I didn’t need to. He responded promptly, he called shortly thereafter. and he advised I should come to his office as he might be able to be of service.

The day of said appointment, his assistant walked me through a model home he had recently completed and I was in awe of his artistry and attention to detail. He really built a beautiful home with the most extraordinary features. He joined us after the tour and asked me my thoughts. I was effusive and sincere in my compliments and his generous, almost unbelievable response was in that case, I could hold my fundraiser in the space.

This made me incredibly nervous and I verbalized that. I was on a limited budget, working for a charity, and there was no way I was going to be able to afford the rent on an eight and a half million dollar model home. He said he was offering the space for free and I refused as I couldn’t take such a massive favor from a veritable albeit stunning stranger.

He considered my dilemma and offered a trade. He would love to support my charity with his artistry if I would be willing to do the same for his chosen cause. He had purchased a table for an evening dedicated to breast cancer awareness and ask me to accompany him on February 13, 2010.

Wait, was that supposed to be a date? With Las Vegas’ very own Prince William?

Am I being punked here? This guy is so beautiful, inside and out, I couldn’t even look directly at him for fear of burning my corneas as he seemed like the sun. Honestly, I didn’t feel worthy. And now he’s asking me to a black tie event where he actually intended to wear a black tie, the only man in the room (it turned out) dressed like a groom on a seven tiered cake? And, it was not lost on me that the event began on the 13th and if I played my cards right, I would still be in his company on the 14th? On Valentine’s Day, with a gorgeous guy who respects my vision? Could the Universe be that generous? OMG…even thinking about this story makes me swoon.

Anyway, I said I’d go. He said great. And so it went…more details closer to February 14th…https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUqlE5mfc0o