Southern California–10:59 p.m., Pamper-Her-Friday:

The first semi-annual Pamper-Her-Friday After5 Affair went off like a charm at the Citizens Bank Arena on a storybook, not-quite-wintry evening in Southern California’s Inland Empire.

With rain-cleansed, crisp air and snow-hatted mountains in the backdrop, the inaugural he-reveals-the-creative-ways-he-cares-for-her gathering featured Asian-fusion dinner; almond-flavored California champagne; piano chords-/strings-inspired, slow-pulse dancing; and the night’s highlight: the improvisational show-her show.

The Improvisational Show-Her Show?

An open-mic, open-stage, open-floor, 4-minute-limit-per-man segment of the evening in which he reveals and/or displays to his captivated love interest what Pamper-Her-Friday means to him–what she means to him.

Each man’s vignette ran the creative/artistic gamut: One man recited her favorite–Chaucer–yet completing the final verses of the poem with lines he’d written exclusively for her. Another man broke into song the very ditty her father would sing to her as a little girl to cheer her after she’d come home with boo-boos and hurts–physical and emotional–from a rambunctious school day.

Another–a novice magician–pulled from his top hat the cutest bunny rabbit that, once released, actually hopped to her table with a tiny satchel dangling from its ears, containing a woo note and gift card to the last remaining independent bookstore (she loves books!) in their city.

And yet another man–perhaps the highlight of the evening and its loudest “awww” moment–began communicating via sign language to his soft-eyed date the very vows they had taken at their wedding those many years ago–she’d recently been in a car accident and the head trauma she suffered resulted in a loss of hearing . . . along with a creeping, silent fear he’d end up leaving her because.

He didn’t.

He signed, among his heart-stopping performance, “Yesterday, today, tomorrow . . . we’re forever.” I don’t believe there was a dry eye in the room. Not a one.

My date seemed to clutch my hand a little tighter and pressed her shoulder upon mine to alleviate any inkling of space between us–to the point I could literally feel the blood coursing throughout her arm, her heartbeat in sync with my own.

It wasn’t about big gifts to one-up the other man; wasn’t about showy theatrics that exaggerated a figment caring that doesn’t actually exist when they go home; wasn’t about which man was the most talented or creative or ooh- and ahh-inspiring.

It wasn’t about the best performer of the night.

No, the inaugural Pamper-Her-Friday After5 Affair wasn’t about outdoing, outperforming, outblinging, or outshowing the next man.

It was about simple expression of caring–in his own way.

Simple expressions of pampering as best he knows how, from the heart.

It was a magical Pamper-Her-Friday.

Man, I had fun.

***

Pamper the woman. From the heart. -Rg2

© 2013 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®