Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

I think you may be losing your touch, fella.

She didn’t reply.

Are you losing your aim or is an errant bow to blame? Misfired perhaps? Or maybe you gave a half-hearted effort on this one.

Do you realize how many prospective Valentines will go without this year? And just imagine the countless Valentines who’ve said yes when, in her heart of hearts, she’s sitting across the table from someone who truly wasn’t her first choice.

I could never be a woman’s second option, a first runner-up. Not because I’m heaven’s gift—far from; hardly anyone knows my name. It’s just that this heart of mine won’t let me.

How would I know? Her eyes. I can look into her eyes and gather her truth. A woman’s eyes have ethics. Even when her lips fib.

Now, let’s be clear, I’ve been rejected before. Dejected twice more. I’ve been fired, even when I’ve made several companies handsome profits. I’ve been turned away by numerous editors–reasons still ungiven. I’ve been passed over for bigger muscles, more glamorous wheels–to say nothing of a fatter wallet.

A man is silly, more like foolish, to think there isn’t a more enticing man who walks his same earth.

And I realize we live in a culture that’s never satisfied.

So, no, Mr. Cupid, don’t even entertain the notion that I somehow feel you owed me something.

It’s just that you’re about to let stand a costly deprivation. You’re gonna allow her to deprive herself of the encounter, in her red dress no less.

And you know I’m susceptible to a lovely woman in a red dress worn in my honor. Fortunes have been given to women by men who adore her red-dress silhouette.

Now isn’t that a rather sad development? Especially considering she in fact—both my instinct and telepathy tell me so—harbors a thought of me. What is the nature of her curiosity?

Sure, she may have said yes to a more enticing man.

But, I assure you, there is no more inviting man than yours truly.

You’re slippin’, fella. Or is this intentional on your part?

Perhaps this wasn’t the Valentine to be. Both she and I alone in our what-might-have-been revelry.

Still, I know you have my best interest at heart.

If you’ll allow me one last favor: Don’t let this haunt her.

I’m a man of good spirits after all. And she deserves no less.

Besides, she never said “no,” now did she? [wink]

I wonder what she’s thinking about right now . . . .

Appreciative nonetheless,
Rg2

_________________

***

Romance lives in a woman’s heart. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

I sense your awareness, your fingers on the keys
What, is there another in the middle of our space?
This subtle failure to communicate, woman, please
What are the chances of a romantic interface . . .

Behind closed or open doors, this Valentine is yours
I’m a lone boat passenger seeking February dock,
I see you standing aloft the wharf with your hair down
Apparitions of my rivals, to you do they flock

The most modest of them all I stand within view
That first love letter you happened upon long ago,
It took you a moment to revisit the author’s face
Wondering in silence, Did Lisa really know?

She didn’t; Others couldn’t; I toiled obscurely
The odd man out—holding life’s everything within,
To share with a select few, though namely with you
No insta-, rather, an old-fashioned gram I send

In the shadows I typed, nary a phrase was hyped
That flower in your hair—it sparked many a verse,
Has your mind ever migrated while behind the wheel?
Tell me, which in the series was your emotion most immersed

Re-appeared have you; disappeared have I
Perhaps you’ve pegged me Ellison’s invisible man,
A Valentine unseen but a Valentine most felt
My presence looms steady over this years-long span

I wanna feel the touch of you, of a woman such as you
In no way is this a proposition inappropriate,
A vicarious touch is simply lacking so much
Given the opportunity, woman, I’ll make the cut

Share a grace dance with me, a little romance with thee
Something within me shan’t let chivalry die,
Memories are all we have to our second to last breath
The self-addressed envelope will arrive for your reply

Anywhere in the world; on my publisher’s card
The honor of your presence would be truly divine,
My only request: A flower once more in your hair
I’d consider it a privilege to be your chosen Valentine

Check one and return to sender:

□ I’m sorry, Roy
□ Hmm, I’m thinking about it, Roy
□ How beautiful, but I . . . I just don’t know, Roy
□ I’m yours, Roy, what time do we leave?

________________

***

Romance lives. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

First Lady:
“Well, you know, I really am a simple girl at heart. And I don’t think I’m much different from other women across the globe when it comes to what truly matters. A heart box of chocolates. Lilacs and daffodils I love. And for the president to take me in his arms and . . . breathe on me.”

(The studio, including the host and the live audience, turns momentarily silent, except a chorus of “awws” beyond the lights)

Show Host: (now suddenly wishing he were the American president, attempts to gather himself but can’t quite, then cuts to commercial break)
“And now a word from our sponsor.”

He’s in love.

_____________________

***
The greatness of a country is not measured by its military arsenal or the size of its economy or its capacity to out-compete its rivals. The greatness of a country is determined by the quality of its women.” -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

(Roy Greer is the founder, creator and innovator of Romance by Rg2 and Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2, a now globally recognized media property and brand and candidate/challenger for the Guinness Book of World Records’ longest, most innovative online love letter/romantic poetry series–approaching no. 300).

And counting . . . .

Roy thanks you deeply for allowing him to share moments of your valuable time. May your Fridays never be the same.

Why must you lie there with a frenzied mind
Thinking, as usual, of what next needs to be done,
Life has made everyone else the priority except you
Has someone thrown shade over your romantic sun?

Might this be your winter of discontent
The holidays were nice but now something’s amiss,
Your eyes meet the ceiling in the middle of night
In search of that heretofore elusive bliss

Read about, talked about, often bandied about
On network media and un-reality shows,
So far removed from the life you’ve been living
Babygirl, you deserve a Valentine who knows

When to arrive . . . just the same, when to leave
No, not abandonment in your hour of need,
Just enough space to inspire: “I miss me some him”
Pride before love? A woman must not concede

Last February you went to the concert alone
Gave your hard-earned money to that performer on stage,
Only to return to the habitat you left
And the mockingbird sings solo in her cage

I can carry a note or two myself, if you care
Pick up the phone, go ahead, put me on speaker,
“ . . . my funny Valentine, sweet comic Valentine . . .”
At my concert, woman, your knees will grow weaker

Have you ever made love on the 14th of February?
No worries, that truly isn’t the moment’s end-all,
In fact, we’re mistaken to even think in such terms
It’s the pre-verse and the postscript, not the interval

That marks the occasion everlasting the heart
I’m sending a card with a dab of my cologne,
I want you to check off the dinner option of choice
And the poem was written as intended pheromone

Let’s consider this “preview” Pamper-Her-Friday
I’m planting a preconceived thought in your mind,
This doesn’t have to be a winter of discontent
In the warm company of a special Valentine . . . .

_________________

***

A little Romance is all . . . . -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

The other guys, they’re jockeying for position
But do they truly understand your higher needs?
Is there something in you on hold for me?
When my chest is cut, it’s your heart that bleeds

It matters; you matter; I matter; Romance matters
If it didn’t, then why do I cross your mind?
What, you think I’ve been writing in purgatory . . .
Our romance contract is printed–will you cosign?

Woman, there’s a quiet movement afoot
Listen closely, you can hear the momentum,
You’ve grown tired of being ignored and unloved
Your glass slippers are in the window–I’ll go get ’em

The God of Romance is rather angry at us
The harm we’ve done to one another in 2015,
Notice happiness is a vanishing resource
We can do better–let’s wipe the slate clean

Woman in the mirror; Man in the looking glass
Look closely, study deeply; Will it break?
I’m peeling the outer ugly off for good
We can do better, Love, for romance sake

Romance matters; a gentle touch matters
Heaven knows(!) a romantic life surely matters,
i want you to think about me in this new year
Yesterday’s bygone; let’s leave our hurts in tatters

A dream came to me last night, woman
You knocked on my door; I invited you in,
We stood silent, you unbuttoned my shirt
Placed your hand on my chest did you–no sin

There we stood; in my eyes you gazed
Fingers spread apart, the palm you pressed,
The other hand rested around my neck
And my lips you gently caressed

You walk away with no verbal goodbye
My eyes follow you out my still-open door,
I approach my street-facing window–to you
A parting glance given–straight to my core

I awoke with a sweat, a shower prolonged
Your palm imprint remains on my chest,
It’s Pamper-Her-Friday and romance matters
Come back tonight . . . I’ll do the rest . . . .

__________

***

Romance matters . . . Romance lives. -Rg2

© 2016 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

This will make you laugh: I’ve had a near-possessive crush on you since you came into my knowledge as a late teen.

Didn’t matter you were 20 years my advance. Heck, my grandfather had once said an older woman was one of a young man’s greatest gifts should he be willing to learn.

I’ve always been teachable. A great listener. Interpreter. An eager learner.

Those intoxicating eyes. The cocoa cream, flawless skin. That regal, mythical, yesterday’s-timeless-lady-meets-today’s-modern-woman presence.

To say nothing of that voice.

My god, that silky, come-hither-and-salivate voice that truly has no rival in the American, even global, song annals.

I can’t tell you the countless times I’ve written through the twinkle of nightfall to near dawn while your “Take a Look” masterpiece played in the distance. Your vocals have birthed many a Pamper-Her-Friday creative from my mind to both the hard and e-page.

When I saw you at the Hollywood Bowl a few years back, I sat enthralled . . . and immediately realized I had ample company: Men of all stripes, ages, and colors sat equally mesmerized, some even with their eyes intentionally closed, simply bathing in your majestic lyricism.

Yours was not simply a show. It was an experience. Together with your father’s heritage (you obviously were bequeathed his gifts, among them class personified!), you breathed life into quietly desperate men.

This will make you laugh but I knelt before you after the show and kissed your hand. “Thank you, my dear lady,” I somehow verbalized from a parched throat.

That dream never did come true.

Please come back. I know, I know, how selfish of me, right?

But I, we, have your music. And your father’s. Eternally.

This will make you laugh, Natalie: I still own a near-possessive crush on you. Trust me, every man has that silent, quiet-is-kept crush on a goddess–met or unmet.

Go on and laugh, Natalie. The naive writer is laughable, I know.

But it’s not funny to me.

There’s a cry in my soul soon to emerge.

Thank you for the timeless gift–of you. In God’s arms you’ve now arrived.

Do me a favor: When you see your father up there, give him a gentle kiss on the forehead and tell him Roy asked about him.

My most heartfelt thanks to you both.

Tearfully yet Gratefully,
Rg2

__________________

***

God, pamper Natalie to infinity . . . for me. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

She pauses for a moment to gather her own still-forming thoughts on what little life she’s lived, even though she’s his senior.

“I think a blessing is something, like, it’s something very special given to somebody who, like, didn’t expect it and maybe didn’t deserve it.”

“Like a present under the tree!” his small voice lifts as he puts two and two together.

“Well, kinda . . . yeah, something like that.”

He pauses and begins surveying the book once again, taking in the images and words scattered about the pages.

“Do you think everybody’s getting presents today like us?”

His question unsuspected, she turns toward him and answers softly, “I hope so.”

Entering the room with a tray populated with cups of hot chocolate, their parents ask if they’re enjoying reading the story.

The little boy jumps from the sofa into his mother’s lap, his arms spread across both parents as best they can.

“I learned a new word today,” he says excitedly.

“Is that so?” she asks, taken by the rush of affection, a warm Christmas smile forming on her face. “What is it?”

“Blessing,” he eagerly replies.

“And what does it mean?” mother asks, curiously awaiting his response.

He doesn’t answer.

Rather, he lets out a laboring grunt as he squeezes her abdomen as tightly as his little outstretched arms and hands ever have before.

“That’s what it means,” his sibling says with a momentary “big sister” pride beaming from her face.

She, too, launches herself from the sofa and into her father’s arms, joining the Christmas fun.

______________

***
Lest we forget. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

Evergreen-lush, so full and fragrant
Our holiday setting will be picturesque,
I’ll drape the lights while you hook the orns
And there’s a little something for you on my desk

The envelope’s constructed of seasonal parchment
You really do like the inscription inside?
Well, open the mini-lope tucked a little deeper
Tonight’s the beginning of a romantic Yuletide

Yes, it’s a rather exclusive guest-gift card
Paired with a digital chip-embedded invite,
In addition to the annual Friends & Family Day
I’ve arranged a first-of-its-kind Pamper-Her Night

Your favorite store will open its doors
to a select few angels with their heartmates’ code,
Nary a cash register will be in operation
The tablets will be set in pre-paid mode

A little merchant arm-twisting? Or palm-greasing?
Call it strategic marketing with romance in mind,
After all, Christmastime comes but once a year
Not every man is blessed with a special find

Such as I have with you, anything but blue
is this holiday season; sweet tidings I bring,
Only 12 days of merry? Oh, quite the contrary
I’ve an endless book of carols to you I’ll sing

“Bells will be ringing . . . ” Your heart will be tingling
Girl, I’m thinking of you out loud as I write this,
‘Tis a special season and, woman, you’re my reason
There’s but one item on my Santa’s wish list:

If you haven’t yet promised your heart to another
Would you help me finish dressing my tree?
I trust your décor and you’ll enjoy my decorum
And if a mystery unfolds, we’ll simply let it be

Thinking out loud feels like wishing out loud
To my home a visit Kris Kringle might pay,
I’ve asked for a decorator whose heart I can kindle
What are you doing this Pamper-Her-Friday?

_____________

***

Pamper the woman . . . for the holidays. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®