I’m a Valentine’s Day dissident. I believe in love. I love my wife. But I think Valentine’s Day is a racket designed to make me feel bad unless I lay down coin and buy some crap that I don’t like — and more to the point, my wife doesn’t like.
This is love? No. This is an emotional extortion scheme with clever marketing people behind it.
As a result, I’d like to offer a comprehensive list of things I’m not getting for my wife tomorrow. To wit:
Flowers. Flowers are great. But it’s always better to buy them when my wife is not expecting them. Like on February 15. When they are half price.
Chocolate. Chocolate is great. But ibid my comment about surprise and half price.
Lingerie. Heck if I know whether these things are the right size or not. And I always run the risk of my wife opening the box and saying, “I see what you got you for Valentine’s Day. What did you get me?”
Hoodie Footie Pajamas. Adults do not wear footie pajamas. And they definitely don’t wear matching footie pajamas.
Charm Bracelets. Dangly crap that jangles around your wrist. No thanks. And since my wife doesn’t much like jewelry in general, I just skip the whole category.
Dinner Out. Dinner out is great but even good restaurants will put together weird prix fixe “love” menus with some sweetish lady-drink cocktail when I’d rather have a beer and some heavy dessert when I’d rather have, well, another beer. Plus everywhere is crowded and they want to turn their tables fast, and I get that, and it’s fine, but it’s not the best time.
Poetry. Poetry’s great but if you’re me, the Muse either shows up or she doesn’t, and she ain’t shown. And I’m not giving my wife poetry you find inside a big pink card. Have you read that stuff? Well this poem might not be any better.
Crap Delivered by Someone Dressed as a Teddy Bear. I actually heard this advertised on the radio. What the heck? Teddy-bear delivery people are the only thing that might make me support Florida-style “Stand Your Ground” laws.
So what am I going to do to demonstrate my eternal devotion to my wife? I’m going to fall on my knees … and clean the bathroom without being asked.
Toilet? Shining like a whistle. Tub? Same thing. Those mold spots growing on the shower walls? Gone. Tile floor? Freshly mopped. Paper? New roll actually installed not just sitting on the shelf.
If that ain’t love and romance, people, I don’t know what is.
Ahhh, romance isn’t dead.
It’s just coughing up blood.
That will be the best Valentine’s ever!
Along with the half price flowers the next day.
Yes!
I’d guessed many of your “not-givings.” It’s a Hallmark Holiday in any case.
Mom and I had our Valentine’s lunch in the reading room. Red heart-shaped nervous stuff for the starter and a different but acceptable main course for each of us. As soon as Mom heard the dessert was Black Forest Cake, she was ready to put her beef something-or-other aside. It wasn’t noisy, it wasn’t crowded, and I didn’t need to scrub the bathroom.
And Mom said “I love you” in response to my “I love you.”
Cake is good! I actually looked at buying flowers, I was coming home from a meeting and passed a shop, but what they had didn’t seem quite right. I figured now that I had announced I wouldn’t buy flowers, it would be a surprise if I did. So bathroom it is. Really needs to be done anyway.
Ditto the list from the receiving end. The Hubs does I Love You stuff all year long. Oh, and please don’t get one of those impossibly sweet stuffed animals that will sit on a shelf gathering dust–shiny toilets are a more practical gift.
I totally forgot about the stuffed animals! So far from my mind, I didn’t even think about them. I did actually clean the bathroom by the by. That part wasn’t a joke.
I sensed your sincerity. Cleaning a toilet as a Present is truly an act of love.
brings to mind ‘the 5 languages of love’….. one of which is ‘acts of service’, [aka your bathroom cleaning] and the old guy, who said that he knows his wife still loves him ‘cos the coffee jar and the toilet roll are never empty….. in the dying words of St David, patron saint of Wales, be joyful, keep the faith and do the little things.
Wise advice. It seems to me a first learned that from my mother especially.
I think your mother loved her time at St. David’s, Wales. Quiet. Beautiful. Good food in a plain dining room. And just the two of us, together. Oh, and a fine evensong in the cathedral.