Years ago, my fiance, Snake, and I had a wee row on Valentine’s Day. I had gotten him The Perfect Gift and he’d gotten me bupkis. Na-da. Unless you count that bitter chill in the air between us. He sat there with The Perfect Gift cradled in his lap and explained:
“I didn’t get you anything,” he sniffed, “because I knew you were expecting it.” Hmm …. Jack Frost nipping at my nose …. Now, a strange, convoluted, ah, discussion ensued.
“Well, what did I do or say that made you think I expected it?” I was bewildered.
“Nothing,” said Snake. “I just knew you did. You shouldn’t expect it, you know. And since you expected it, I didn’t do it.” I watched as he fiddled with The Perfect Gift in his lap.
I won’t relay more of what was said, because it basically went roundy-round on those two comments. Ain’t love grand.
Thankfully, I shed Mr. Snake from my life before ever slithering down the aisle to become Mrs. Snake.
So yes, that “day” is comin’. That !#&?! day dedicated to delight, delirium …. and dashed hopes.
Yep.
Birds-Trees-Hearts-and-Flowers Day.
Drunk-Dial-Your-Ex Day.
Lame ‘n’ Crappy Ol’ Valentine’s Day.
Please remain calm!
I know it’s a dratted manufactured holiday, fellas. Maybe we “shouldn’t expect it,” but, well, we’re history’s worst monsters and we do. Try looking at it this way: You have the chance to “outlove” ALL OTHER MEN. You could be the talk of all your wife’s friends, sending those green-eyed hens home to their roosters, clucking, “Why can’t you be more like Walter?!” You could be, if only for one day, The World’s Greatest Lover.
Trust me. Your woman will likely brag about you if you sweep ‘er off her dainty little feet. Why? Because women like to make other women feel bad. “If I’m the Queen, that means you’re not.” Well, maybe that’s a tad harsh. (But have you met any women?)
So, roosters, In the spirit of that !#&?! day, I’m serving up some ideas to get you to that lofty, long-for position of World’s … Greatest … Lover … Some of these are mine, some aren’t. I’ll do a few in this post — more in another. Here we go:
1. Understand the difference between a present and a gift:
A present is something you give because you want your beloved to have it.
A gift is something you give because you’re sure your beloved wants it.
Roosters — That Dustbuster is a present. That lacy little somethin’-somethin’ might be, too. Think about that.
Hens — Underwear, ties, and socks — unless handmade by you or your precious, wide-eyed 4-year-old — are presents.
“And extreme lustbusters,” MB is chiming in.
“Thanks, babe,” is what I lovingly say to him but what I’m thinking is “Hey — get your own !?@!#! blog!”
2. All right. Let’s get this over with. Flowers — eh. They’re okay, but every other WGL contender is doing it, so big whoop. That doesn’t set you apart as the BEST. Don’t do roses — unless they’re absolutelytutely her favorite. Meaning she’ll drop everything because she’s gone weak in the knees and passionately kiss you for …. hmm … say, at least 30 seconds. Then they’re probably her favorite.
3. Chocolate — if she LOVES it. See reaction above. But get the best you can afford. Not a Whitman’s Sampler that you bought in the drugstore from a slow-moving, loquacious cashier named Agnes on the way home from work …. on Valentine’s Day.
4. Okay. Old standbys out of the way. I’m gonna say something that’s true for me — and for my girlfriends (hey, we talk about this): We’d rather you take some time, be creative, than spend a lot of money. Sometimes the simplest things can make the most impact. A few years ago, My Beloved wrote me a list of reasons why he loved me. It was touching and funny and melted me. I took time, creativity. And I loved it. I remember there were a lot more reasons than I could have thought of — and more than I think I deserve. I still have that list. I still look at that list.
5. Last entry for this post — and necessary precursor to what’s coming in the next:
Roosters and Hens — Lovely presentation is part of the gift. It shows you took just a little extra time. It shows “the love.” If you are not “gifted” at this, please — oh, please — have someone do it for you. If you’re not sure whether you’re gifted at this, you can send me a picture of something you’ve wrapped — 😉 I’ll tell you straight. (Hey, in college I worked retail, wrapping gifts and preparing gift baskets for a very shi-shi-poo-poo store. So I got pretty darn good at — well, at shi-shi-poo-poo wrapping.) At least keep some handy-dandy gift bags on hand, get some excelsior (straw-like stuff from arts stores) or tissue — and nice it up! Come on. I know you can do it. (Or contact me and I’ll do it for you — I really would. Because I love to do that.) Yeah, I know …. I’m weird.
Okay, henhouse dismissed … for now …