I’m not really sure I understand the concept of Valentine’s Day. Maybe the problem is that I just don’t understand women. I don’t, but there’s not enough blog space to get into that.
Apparently, some dude, maybe Rudy Valentino, became known for making women extremely happy one day out of the year, namely, February 14. We don’t know exactly how this happened, but like any great myth, what probably started as something simple, like accidentally telling his wife that he loved her, blossomed into some folklore tradition, whereupon men must somehow transmutate into romantic storybook lovers satisfying their woman’s every fantasy and desire for one day. Then, Hallmark got a hold of it and . . .well, you know the rest. So now it is one of the great burden’s of modern man (amongst others are mall shopping, being sensitive, scented inserts in magazines, Home Interiors, and La Maz.)
But this year, my wife and I decided to be practical. With the bad economy, lower medicare reimbursement, my daughter starting college and a second teenager getting a driver’s license, we decided not to exchange gifts. No. Really. After all, flowers just die, we don’t need the extra calories in chocolate although that has nothing to do with our current weight status, and my wife actually doesn’t care much for jewelry–she doesn’t usually wear any.
But then I came across this really neat Penn State vase of blue and white flowers, so I thought I would surprise her anyway. After all, we are Penn State fans although truth be told, the gift was mostly for me.
Alas, when I got on-line last Friday, thinking I still had plenty of time until Tuesday, I discovered that the earliest delivery date was February 21st. Surprise! (Jazz hands.)
So then I heard on the radio that Martin’s (our local supermarket) had chocolate-covered strawberries for Valentine’s Day. I wanted to pick up a card for her anyway, so off I went. I generally loathe supermarkets, and today was no exception. After wandering the aisles aimlessly searching for chocolate-covered strawberries, I finally stopped and asked a guy selling flowers. Yes, ladies, I was soooo desperate I stopped for directions!
He said: Um, I think they have strawberries in produce, and there’s chocolate in the candy aisle.
As I sit here typing this now, I even wonder if he worked there.
Seriously? Do I look like Betty Crocker? Can you picture me microwaving Hershey Bars and trying to smear the mess on some strawberries? Okay, maybe you can. But would you eat them? I didn’t know there was going to be some assembly required. Turns out, after inquiring at the bakery, that the store does NOT have chocolate-covered strawberries this year. Must have been a frost or a chocolate fungus or something catastrophic like that. I either heard the advertisement wrong, or well, I must have heard the advertisement wrong. Maybe it was Wal-Mart. And I am not going there!
I did get her a card. And I fully intended to buy her some strawberries. And flowers. It’s the thought that counts, right?
Yeah. That’s right up there with those myths like size doesn’t matter and money can’t buy you happiness.
So in the end, as agreed, I gave her nothing for Valentine’s Day.
I wonder if she’ll wear it to bed tonight.
Naw. She’d probably rather have the strawberries.
But I still wuv her.