4 years of jumping photos from all over the world adds up to this one momentous occasion — Leap Year Day! And, of course, a video of aforementioned leaping photos from around the world paired with The Pointers Sisters’ “Jump.”

Oh, soo not in the “oh my God how do people people even deal with the kicking/screaming/crying/puking/peeing/pooping/eating-every-three-seconds/missed-napping/throwing-a-temper-tantrum-in-the-coloring-book-aisle” (though I do have my fair share of “um” moments about that, too).

But more in the “How in HELL am I going to explain that it’s not OK to be nearly beaten to death by someone “who loves you” only to turn around and to make a dirty song about rekindling some sort of kinky sexual romance like Rihanna and Chris Brown did in their recent remixes/publicity stunt” way.

Fame is weird, you know? Well, not that I would really know — but I know the other side of fame: the idolization from fans. Man, as a kid I LOVED tons of famous people — so much so that I would even occasionally change my opinions to be more like them. It had nothing to do with worship as much as it had to do with admiring their talents to the point that I hoped my grown-adult life would one day turn out like that famous person’s life.

I think famous peoples’ lives are portrayed as a kid’s real-life dream come true: fun all the time, spending money on anything, fights get highlighted, and really pretty pictures are constantly taken and shared with the world to ogle — all these things are what kids think life is about because that’s the kind of stuff most kids tend to glorify at a young age. Think back: your parents were pretty damn lame (they paid bills and said “no” to fun stuff all the time — who wants to grow up to be like that?!), but celebs are constantly portrayed doing anything they want — so why wouldn’t EVERYONE STRIVE TO LIVE LIKE THAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?

So, this whole Rihanna and Chris Brown thing is pretty messed up (if not only for that fact that, yet again, celebs are glorified wayyy to much in our society), but for the fact that the two are idols to so, so many kids. The two pairing up to sell music by promoting that their previous abusive relationship is water under the bridge is just another way to fool kids in to thinking that consequences just don’t exist.

I’m won’t preach about the whole “media is the reason why kids have problems” thing. I am here to holler as a scared future father that will have to one day figure out the best (and less explicit) way to word THAT RIHANNA IS AN ABSOLUTE, ASININE IDIOT and WHY CHRIS BROWN IS A DISGUSTING HUMAN BEING WHO SHOULD BE SHUNNED TO “LOST” ISLAND WHERE HE CAN FEND OFF THE SMOKE MONSTER UNTIL HE REALIZES HE HAS A LOT OF SHIT TO DEAL WITH AND SHOULD GIVE UP FAME TO DEAL WITH THE AFOREMENTIONED SHIT without coming off as, um, really disgusted with humans AND (most importantly) jealous-sounding that famous people have it better than me.

You know, ’cause I want to leave some optimism for our future.

Plus, I can’t even imagine raising my future child in to an adult that thinks that what these two are doing is socially acceptable at an everyday, human level (not just a fame whore level).

Also, I’m really afraid that some other future parent of their future kid share my same fear (or even, um, ignore it as a problem) and will allow the repeat of this kind of stunt (whether public or behind closed doors) on my future all-grown-up child because of what these two celebs are pulling to rake in some PR.

Mostly, humans often terrify me and sometimes it feels weird being one.

When I tell people that my favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day, this is usually their response:

And, you know, usually I don’t mind. Like my grandma always used to say: “To each their own… unless they’re squirrels — then those bastards can die.” (true story.)

Here’s a list of why people think I love Valentine’s Day:

1. “It’s all about cards and paper and envelopes and you’re obsessed with that stuff.” (yup.)
2. “You’re just looking for something to distract you from winter.” (yup.)
3. “Of course you love this holiday… you have THE BEST partner EVER.”

And it’s the last one that always irks me.

What people don’t realize is that for twenty-three years of my life I was consecutively single. I never had a girlfriend in high school (um…), dating in college was sporadic, and when I finally hit serious dating, I was already head-over-heels in love with this holiday. And, trust me, in my lonnnnnnnnnng resume of dating, I’ve have had my fair share of REALLY BAD VALENTINE’S DAY dates:

1. The guy that threw a full glass of red wine at our waiter because I refused to go home with him after he just paid my $30 (!!!)  dinner. (He worked at a coffee shop and told me that it took him a week’s worth of lattes to pay for my sushi.)
2. The guy that printed photos off my Friendster (Three cheers for vintage social media!) account and put them in frames… ON OUR FIRST DATE. (That was my second Valentine’s Day experience)
3. The guy that showed me his well-curated (under glass!) chewed gum collection. (That didn’t happen on Valentine’s Day, but I wanted to share the story.)

So, no, I didn’t always have my dream guy — AKA, Nate — to enjoy on this day. (Side note: Does who you date in the past say who you are as a person? If so, I’m screwed.)

But my mom loved holidays and, as a kid, made sure I enjoyed them to the fullest. My parents would make a fun, semi-fancy dinner (where we’d sip Cherry 7-up out of wine glasses) and my mom would just get us a little gift wrapped in shiny red wrapping paper (usually a Goosebumps book!) and then we’d all watch movies before going to bed. And not to mention THE BEST DAY IN SCHOOL was when you got to make your own Valentine’s mailbox out of an old shoe box and give out hand-written cards to everyone in your class while eating cupcakes.

(WAIT, WHAT IS WRONG WITH STILL DOING THAT AS AN ADULT!?)

And here’s what I understand: Some people just don’t dig that stuff. I totally get that getting a fun red-enveloped mail from friends is not your cup of tea. I totally understand that you’re not in to sweets. I also know that most of your parents probably didn’t make homemade baked french onion soup to enjoy over candle lit dinners as a kid. I get that Valentine’s Day just doesn’t give you that feeling it does for me. And even I don’t do the whole oh-my-god-this-is-the-most-romantic-day-in-the-world-we-have-to-order-flowers-chocolates-champagne-have-sex thing. I don’t do cliches, I just do my own thing because it’s FUN, guys.

And that’s just it: Valentine’s Day is FUN, guys. F-U-N. I don’t enjoy it for the gifts. I don’t feel obligated to buy a card ( I make ‘em!). I do it because what other day in your life can you slap some ridiculous, gaudy hearts on an envelope and give it to friends/co-workers/family/strangers?

So, dear all you heart-day haters, listen up:

This holiday is reaaallllllly not that big of a deal. Lighten up. Just ’cause you’re single doesn’t mean you can’t have fun with it. And if you don’t like the damn day, then zip the lip. I’m not a fan of St. Patrick’s Day, but you don’t hear me going around complaining about HAVING to day drink with all my friends while wearing a shade of green that matches my eyes. Nope. I suck it up.

If you’re single and get sad about being single on this day — think about — why even invest the energy and why are you sad? Sure us coupled people are together doing something, but don’t you have any body else to hang out with — A.K.A. YOURSELF? Not too sure about you, but when I was single and NOT wanting to going on a date on this “big” day (do you blame me based on the aforementioned examples) I was at home macking on my Netflix list while drinking wine. I was completely content. I wasn’t all: “This holiday’s just some Hallmark B.S. that people make too big deal about.” Nope, I was drunk (by myself) and there wasn’t anything wrong with it. Nothing.

I get it: haters are gonna hate, and I’m not going to change you. But just think about why you’re hating on it so much, you know? If you’re lonely, fix it. If you’re not, dig it. If you hate holidays in general, then you’re going to hate this day no matter what. If you think it’s just a dumb day, then call it “Monday (A.K.A. dumbest day of the week.) and wear black and go on with your day.

Mostly, don’t go ruining my day — it’s not very nice.

(brushes red glitter off your shoulders as he steps off his soapbox)

Now, off to deliver candy hearts to the world!

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that one of the main reasons why I bribed Nate in to taking me to Santa Barbara for an early Valentine’s Day celebration was because of the 80′s soap opera sharing the same name. You guys remember that goodness: Cruz, Eden, Mansions, and those scenes where devious characters poured expensive booze from crystal decanters while mischievously plotting some sort of scheme? Man, TV was awesome back in the day — remember THAT, kids.

Anyway, this whole we-live-in-a-different-part-of-the-country thing introduces all kinds of opportunities (aside from an all-access-pass to year-round avocados, oranges, limes, strawberries, flowers and everything that doesn’t grow in the Midwest under snow), and we promised each other that we would take full advantage of living in the middle of road trip heaven. Guys, we live 4.5 hours from Las Vegas, 2 hours from San Diego, and, like, 6 hours from San Francisco — we are in car-trekking heaven. And because Nate is awesome and similarly infested (um, ew.) with the travel bug, we often wake up with a adventure itch that only a random vacay can cure.

So, we hopped in the car with our “LA Love” ipod playlist (Playlist Highlights: Robyn’s “Call Your Girlfriend;” Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used To Know;” Glee’s “Smooth Criminal“) and drove over an hour along the cost of California to Santa Barbara. This is how that moment plays out:

A) You will constantly repeat, “Can you even handle how close we live to an ocean?!”

B) You will also constantly repeat “Can you even handle that it’s 80 degrees in the middle of winter?!”

C) You will constantly see sights like this:

and, ohmygod, this:

(This is what real life looks like on the on this coast.)

So, we get to Santa Barbara and IT LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE THE SOAP OPERA! It’s all romantic and JUST like Hollywood portrayed it back in the day: Houses are gigantic, cars are chic, people wear big sunglasses and expensive purses, really great shopping, lots of places to eat (and drink!) and the street sign font is even fancy (we decided it was something between italicized  and a curly-like ).

We even got to scope out awesome antique stores where they sold some stellar Mid-Century Modern stuff:

…and WHERE THEY SELL PEE-WEE HERMAN PAINTINGS!!!

“So… maybe TV isn’t that wrong about how they portray California,” Nate says as we walk by model-like surfers drinking smoothies. And he’s right, the entire state of California looks like a movie set — everything just seems soooooo perfect — it’s almost magical.

… And even our new life doesn’t seem real.

That’s hard to explain… OK, have you ever left the US and did something you’d thought would be a normal experience — go to the post office, get your hair cut, take public transportation — and it ends up being incredibly different out-of-body experience? That’s exactly what it feels like moving and adjusting to this new lifestyle. Like, this one time, I was in Belize and was in a bathroom where there was an attendant. (Side note: Those dudes in bathrooms make me nervous. If I needed someone to help me pump soap in my hands, I’d hire myself a personal assistant — BRB, looking in to that.) But I was polite and tipped him for his service. I didn’t see a tip jar, so I left my couple of pesos on the counter and left — no big deal. Out of nowhere, the attendant starts running down through the restaurant and out to the street shaking his head and demanding I take my money back because he doesn’t accept tips. I was in awe because, um, dude sits in the bathroom all day (and that bathroom wasn’t cute) AND not tipping for a service just wouldn’t fly in the U.S. Mostly it was just a reality check: “You’re not native here, B…” kind of moment. I mean, I’ve had a lot of these while out of the country, but not while living in my native country.

But it happens a lot in California. I think things just add up: It’s ALWAYS sunny and people don’t understand hibernation because it’s always so sunny (Oh, and did I mention that it’s always sunny?). People are in really good shape. There are palm trees everywhere. You can EAT OUTSIDE ALL YEAR LONG. Scarfs are fashion statements. Sunglasses are worn ALL THE TIME.

Fact: Life’s actually easier here.

Reason: It’s the weather, for sure.

It’s amazing, Nate and I… we feel like we’ve discovered this whole new universe where the weather actually cooperates with your life. But it also does something your head, guys — and your heart. If you know the Midwest, you know what bitter cold, dark, long, winters do to a soul; sometimes it can be just plain evil (Try getting frostbite on the tip of your ears after only five minutes of waiting for a bus and see what that does to your day.). Sure, sneaking a few nights of drinking red wine to get the warm and fuzzies can help, but the harsh atmosphere of gray skies and bitter wind for a sixth month period can gnaw on your motivation… and on your heart. Here: the warmth and sun makes you feel alive.

Don’t get me wrong: I think of snow and cold and wind often. I think of getting all cozy in my cute pea coat and scarf and playing broomball and bracing for a headwinds and fireplaces and mittens and season changes and having one more glass of wine to stay warm at the bar and watching the pups roll in snow drifts. But I blame that on nostalgia — that damn phenom makes you think things are so magical when they might just be semi-awesome every once in awhile.

I guess what I’m really saying (and some of you have probably been dying for me to get to that point) is that I feel like we’re living some make-believe life. I feel like we’re in our own 7-day-a-week soap opera (sans bad guys, people coming back from the dead, and dramatic soundtracks — did our see our road trip playlist?!). Our characters have a whole new storyline that involves enjoying this uber-AMAZING climate, and also like a soap opera, allows us to fully embrace the new romantic lifestyle we are about to join in to together – MARRIAGE! It makes everything together — OUR RECENT ENGAGEMENT (!!!!!!!!), a weekend getaway, and even grocery shopping — seem unbelievably awesome. It doesn’t hurt to be experecing this imaginary mindset with my real really-awesome dude.

Life just seems so magical in this state — and in this state of mind.

The jig is up my little furry media hog.

I’m writing to let you know that FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE I could care less about your big ta-do. For twenty-nine years of my life, I’d listen to our Midwestern news channels report about your “seeing/not seeing shadows” situation. Then, for the entire day, all we’d talk about is “WUMP-WUMP… looks like we have six weeks of winter to go” or “YAH! We have six weeks to spring!” (Ignore the fact that us Midwesterners didn’t like to really admit that the TWO ARE EXACTLY THE SAME).

But, now I live in Southern California where, um, pretty much everyday is a version of summer — sometimes a windy summer day or sometimes a hot summer day or sometimes a cloudy, but still hot summer day.

So, even though you’re a cute little furry thing that I totally want to dress up, make my pet (and has a better acting resume than most actors in this city), I have something to tell you: The. Jig. Is. Up. Today is supposed to be 80  degrees and so is tomorrow and so on and so on and so on. No one cares about your shadow and season predictions around here — THE SEASONS NEVER CHANGE!

Everyone hits that point in their life: “Is this career right for me anymore?” And it’s OK! Maybe it’s time to move on and take up painting, Tai-Chi, or Wii bowling.

Never-the-less, thanks for the childhood memories. Also, are you in any way related to that gopher in “Cady Shack” — now THERE’S an actor!

Love,
B

Somehow you both end up popping a bottle of champagne (to celebrate nothing) then wander off together to the nearest gay bar where you sing a karaoke version of Tony Braxton’s “Unbreak My Heart”  to a heavy-set Italian man because the aforementioned, newly-met heavy-set Italian man requests it of you for his birthday.

Stranger In Coffee Shop: How are you not wearing a jacket and long sleeves, it’s so COLD today!

ME: (It’s 65 degrees outside) Um, it’s not cold.

SICS: It’s freezing!!!

ME: No, freezing is when the snot drips out of your nose, and it freezes instantly to your face…

And that concludes your “How To NOT Make Friends In CA,” lesson of the day, guys.

Byron: I can say something like that because I’m cute.

Nate: So, you think you’re cute.

Byron: No, I know I’m cute.

Nate: You know, it’s not cute to be cute when you’re almost 30.

Byron: …really?

Nate: Yup.

Byron: Fine, then I’m charming… like a prince. Princes are charming no matter how old they get.