If Hallmark had its way, I’d be buying a super-sized greeting card today. It would be emblazoned with hearts and pictures of Cupid and contain the mushiest of messages.
If the confectioners had their way, I’d be investing in a super-sized box of bonbons. It would be wrapped in shiny foil and a big red bow and have a tag with the mushiest of messages.
If the florists had their way, I’d be shopping there too. I’d be picking up a super-sized springtime arrangement and be handed a card on which I would write the mushiest of messages.
Given the romantic expectations of the day, I’d be at the receiving end of such items as well. If the husband responds the way the retailers want him to, he’ll be presenting me with candy, roses and a big mushy card.
That would be lovely, but really, I don’t need any chocolates. I pick up flowers once a week. And mush can be, well, mushy.
I don’t need Valentine’s Day to convince me the husband is rather fond of me. He is. I get that. Full stop.
What I really need are the practical things. If the husband wants to make a rather impressive romantic point today, he’ll bypass the orchids and the Turkish Delight, and give me a new frying pan. Ours has lost its non-stick coating, and besides, what says “I love you” like a frying pan?
A Valentine’s card would be nice, but heck, if the husband is at the drug store, I’d much prefer that he picked up a black magic marker, some Scotch tape and some Post-It Notes, because I’m all outta those. Heck, I wouldn’t even mind if he used the marker to write some semi-mushy message.
Sure, we could go out for dinner, but we go out for dinner all the time, so I don’t see the point simply because it’s Feb. 14th. We might go out for dinner on Saturday or maybe next Monday, but need not to do that tonight.
I’d rather the husband spent tonight’s dinner money on, oh, a new phone charger. Hey, there might even be enough left over for a dozen new golf balls. I’m determined to make a comeback on the course this year, and heaven knows I need some balls.
That would make my heart go pitter patter all right.
Sure, flowers would make an impression all right, and I’d be darned appreciative of them. But in a week, they’d be tossed, while a phone charger and golf balls would continue to live on. I hope my sweetie thinks of this, because that would be mighty romantic.
