He’s Got a Big Ego: Proving Yourself By Giving Her the Ultimate V-Day Treatment

“V” Day.
Valentine’s.
Vic­tory.
Victoria’s Secret.
Vic­tory with Victoria’s Secret.
VIP.
Vic­tory with Victoria’s Secret in a VIP cabana at the Viceroy.
Vag …

Any­way, depend­ing upon where you stand in your sex(less) life, it’s up to you to define this hol­i­day over­flow­ing with lust love seduc­tion oppor­tu­ni­ties. There are ways to slam dunk your Victoria’s Secret vixen dur­ing the V-day hol­i­day, and there are def­i­nitely ways to air­ball. For instance, last V-Day in 2009, I was taken to Valentine’s Day brunch.

Brunch. That res­onates, “He does have a girlfriend.”

On Feb­ru­ary 13, 2008, I ended up mak­ing V-Day din­ner reser­va­tions at Chaya Brasserie in Bev­erly Hills via OpenTable.com myself.

Myself. (No elab­o­ra­tion necessary).

But V-Day 2010 has already begun for me, as I just expe­ri­enced an alleged “part” of my VIP V-Day gift last night: cen­ter court floor seats at the Jazz vs. Clip­pers game dur­ing my first visit to Sta­ples Cen­ter. Impressed, I am thus far.

How­ever, if you go too far to impress a lady to an extent which exceeds your over­all man­hood, then that puts you in a far worse sit­u­a­tion than the after­math of hav­ing her make Valentine’s Day brunch reser­va­tions via OpenTable.com. In other words, don’t drive a Fer­rari F-430 if you can’t maneu­ver it at a speed over 80-mph in the canyons. Don’t give her a puppy with a Swarovski col­lar, as afore­men­tioned, if you can’t help walk the furry friend on a reg­u­lar basis. And don’t floss floor seats at your local NBA game if you’re unable to land the same seats the next week – or bet­ter yet – if you can’t floss all of the icing that is expected with the A-list view. Let me explain my VIP check­list of icing:

VIP Park­ing: If you’re pissed just think­ing about hav­ing to pay $20 plus gra­tu­ity for park­ing, or if you think there’s an excep­tion to this rule, then you’re an excep­tional fool. You’d be the sub­ject of the day-after-V-Day phone call to her best friend regard­ing your idiocy and can­di­dacy for world class cheap­skate. FYI, your date’s Valentine’s Day expe­ri­ence begins when she wakes up on Sun­day, as she’ll be look­ing for­ward to royal treat­ment before she’s off to church or her morn­ing work­out ses­sion. So, yes, an early-to-midday text say­ing “Can’t wait to see you tonight. Have a won­der­ful day :)” is utterly accept­able. That said, pulling up to the valet at the venue’s main park­ing struc­ture is part of the VIP V-Day expe­ri­ence – from the moment the assis­tant valet opens the pas­sen­ger door for her, to the moment after the game when you tip the driver.

VIP Din­ner: Decid­ing whether to chow down or deter­min­ing your level of hunger is not an option. Two rounds of food and at least one round of drinks are manda­tory. The chicken fin­gers with three dip­ping sauces and over­loaded nachos with chicken, cheese, sour cream, gua­camole, toma­toes, jalapeños – just how I like it – made me flash my mil­lion dol­lar smile while I played back­ground beauty dur­ing FSN Prime Ticket’s game cov­er­age. I had the option of a court­side Bud, a Per­fect 10 by spe­cial request, or even vino rosso; but I chose gin­ger ale (it was a very rough week­end). I can’t promise you that the lead­ing lady will con­sume any of this court­side deca­dence that the server brings to you, but food is essen­tial. Diddy orders court­side grub, and so should you.

Got VIP Game? Despite pop­u­lar belief, there are court­side do’s and don’ts…
1) Do carry some sports knowl­edge. Now, this may be the Mid­west­ern girl in me talk­ing, but the biggest turn-off to me is when a guy flaunts A-list tick­ets at a game and has no clue what’s going on or has no abil­ity to spit player stats. If you’re a typ­i­cal stat strag­gler, try the ESPN Score­Cen­ter iPhone app.
2) Don’t wear your stun­ner shades at night. Just because Blake Grif­fin is on the bench rockin’ his white Adi­das tear­aways for four months doesn’t mean you can lounge in your fold­ing chair sport­ing your white Louis Vuit­ton Evi­dence shades for four quar­ters. Save them for the pier.
3) Do use pro­fan­ity when rel­e­vant. Even though foul lan­guage is never truly attrac­tive in women’s eyes, we’ll let it slide when such sport­ing event ver­nac­u­lar includes, “Fuck­ing Kaman!”
4) Don’t be a bad sports fan. It is quite the trend to arrive fash­ion­ably late to your cen­ter court floor seats, but early leaves are absolutely intol­er­a­ble. Never leave before the 4th quar­ter ends, even if your home team is not on top. (I learned this rule of cul­ture dur­ing my tod­dler years at the old Busch Stadium).

Got Real VIP Game? So, you’re up close and per­sonal with mus­cled males who get paid mil­lions to drib­ble and seduce broads when jet-setting. One of your home team’s for­wards does a dou­ble triple take on your date. Later, you catch the pro baller attempt­ing to eye-fuck her before the sec­ond half begins. Then, when you and the femme look in the Clipper’s direc­tion, he looks away, takes a squeeze bot­tle of hand cream and shakes it up and down in a jack-off man­ner (no pun intended). Han­dle that! A good laugh and a “That was awe­some,” will prove your calm­ness and cool fac­tor, as well as wrap up a humor­ous NBA mem­ory. Be a player, join the game.

VIP Seat Cred: It’s the sports fanatic ver­sion of street cred­i­bil­ity. So, how did you score those prime seats again? Fame? For­tune? Or did you use left­over law school loans for this one? Hope­fully not the lat­ter. I’d hope that a guy sit­ting on the floor at cen­ter court mans his own suc­cess­ful entre­pre­neur­ship, was able to charge the tick­ets to his Amex with­out regret, or has some ridicu­lously amaz­ing story behind him, or all of the above. Now, if you hap­pen to be the fea­tured busi­ness suc­cess story in this month’s issue of your city’s lux­ury lifestyle pub­li­ca­tion, then that will cop you enough seat cred points for the rest of the season.

VIP Dessert: Cold. So the game has ended, you’ve got her waist in one hand and her sou­venir in the other, and have thrown tip to valet. Make the pit stop to a chilly dessert so you can warm her up later. Obvi­ously. Indeed, you already paid a grip for park­ing and court­side con­ces­sions, but you must sat­isfy her sweet tooth with her favorite ice cream – or my per­sonal weak­ness – Pinkberry. Her top­pings of choice bet­ter be in your brain’s SIM card. Hon­estly, at this point, your female com­pan­ion won’t even be hun­gry. She’s just wait­ing to see how far you will go.

Dessert #2: Hot. (Again, no elab­o­ra­tion needed).

Moral of the story: Don’t floss if you ain’t a boss.

He walked like this ‘cause he could back it up.

[Note from Mary Beth: I hope you enjoyed court­side iPhone shots of my VIP V-Day expe­ri­ence. If you’re won­der­ing – yes, this gen­tle­man def­i­nitely set the bar for oth­ers to fol­low. But like I said before, each time you give a girl a gift, she will expect some­thing big­ger and bet­ter each time there­after. Set­ting such a high bar for your­self is pretty ballsy. And I like it. For more pho­tos of last night’s game, visit www.MarUsedToLoveHer.com]

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