Sportsmeat

On Feb. 14 each year, I think of a special lady that most Sportsmeaters knew pretty well not too long ago. In the interests of anonymity, I'll use a single initial: D., our dear fraternity chef, whose barely-heated chicken patties and greasy fries kept dozens of young men running to the bathroom for the better part of their last three years of college. D., who answered our plea for more vegetables with an assortment of beer-battered, deep-fried carrots, cauliflower and broccoli. D., who never heard a joke too crass to re-tell. D., whose flirtations were both hilarious and revolting. D., a woman the likes of which I never knew before college and haven't met since.

But why on Valentine's Day? Did I have a crush on D.? Oh God no. But it was on Valentine's Day that D. had the idea to do something special for ol' SAE. She baked (bought?) a heart-shaped cake, and iced upon it a very special message. She started with "Happy" in large cursive, but realizing she needed to be brief, with just a narrow space below, she decided to abbreviate. And that is how our dessert for the night came to read "Happy V.D." Not exactly the sentiment you want to see three hours before a date party, but there it is. Happy V.D., boys.