We were in the car the other day, and out of nowhere, P. said, “we’re not doing anything for Valentine’s Day, right?”
As proof that we are a perfect match, my first thought was, “hell no, we’re not doing anything. Why would I want you to show your love for me because you feel this great obligation due to pressure from Hallmark? I want you to do things to show you love me because you want to. All the time, not just on some predetermined day. And what would I do with a teddy bear with a non-huggable plastic heart on it anyway? Or an approximation of your love for me as told by some stranger who writes greeting cards?”
But, I didn’t want to let him off the hook that easily, so what I said was, “why not?”
And he said that it seemed hokey, to buy into to the whole Hallmark crap. I told him that I felt really unloved, because according to every commercial currently on TV, no one loves me if I don’t receive a chocolate-covered diamond.
We decided that we would cook some tasty food and drink wine. Which is what we do just about every night, but as P. said, why mess with a good thing.
I was driving past this gas station a couple of days ago, and someone had set up a bunch of tables and was selling Valentine’s Day gift baskets. These were Easter basket-quality baskets, covered in cellophane, with sundy stuffed animals in them that must have been three feet tall: things like huge mutant yellow chicks. Come to think of it, they might be left over from last Easter. They were without a doubt the tackiest things I had ever seen. OK, well that’s not really true, because there’s a lot of tacky in this world, but these were definitely in the top ten. And super-scary. If I had one of these things staring at me when I was trying to sleep, I’d have to hide a gun under my pillow.
So, I got to thinking about the guys who would buy these things. Surely they would be in a panic, no idea what to do for Valentine’s Day, see these hideous baskets and assume girls would love them. Maybe some girls do, I don’t know. What do you do with a scary three-foot tall yellow chick anyway? But I was trying to imagine how that scene would play out… a girl hoping for a nice romantic dinner, or maybe diamond earrings, and her boyfriend brings her home this monstrosity covered in plastic wrap. That he got at a gas station.
A guy got me this rose from a gas station once. It was actually red panties that were folded into the shape of a rose. I assumed it was a joke. It was a joke, right? No one buys rose-shaped panties from a gas station as an actual sign of affection do they? The panties were scratchy. I had to throw them away. (Yes, I washed them before I wore them. Eww.)