stuffed yellow mutant chicks of love

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.)

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