Set the beer down and back away slowly, you insensitive brute.
Tomorrow, Thursday, February 14th, is Valentine’s Day, and “Ma” craves a little action. It’s one of the three or four holidays that require you to think about someone else’s “tackle” rather than your own.
Why I want to save you is unclear, a reminder of your obligation is warranted however.
Nothing but dinner is saying, “I forgot.” Girls know this – but she’s much too polite to mention it, instead she’ll wash your fishing vest and empty a bottle of starch into the pockets. Dinner out after acknowledging the event that morning, is a different story.
Gals require you to suffer and since they smell good, it’s okay. Flowers and candy, dinner out, all of these are viable tools, but it’s the delivery that sets them apart.
Candy and flowers in the morning says, “I remembered.” She’s not expecting some lavish diamond, she might not even care for candy or traditional stuff, all she craves is a little attention. The undivided kind.
Don’t thrust a Snicker’s bar at her when she steps out of the shower, pretend she’s a large trout – and kinda stealth up to your gift. Ditto for flowers, you don’t hurl them like the morning paper, hand them to her with all the petals intact for once…
Remember, this is the grand old gal that raised your idiot kids and packs your lunch without a thought for herself, and she’s damn well worth every drop of sweat required.
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I enjoy doing something special for my wife on our wedding anniversary and on her birthday, but I refuse to bow to the corporate dogs behind Valentine’s Day.
VD has metastasized into a “can’t win” for most men. The bare bones offering these days is outrageously overpriced imported roses that wilt within a day or two and bad tasting candy in a pretty box. As this is expected, you’ll need to go beyond that if you really want to score points: dinner at a loud, popular, expensive restaurant that’s overbooked and short staffed, and perhaps a shiny trinket she’ll wear for an hour or two that evening before stowing it away in the safe deposit box.
I’ve been able to convince my wife that VD is a conspiratorial money making scheme financed by an evil axis of FTD (roses in February?), Whitman’s, and Hallmark. As such, she’ll be pleased if I remember to put my dirty shorts in the hamper instead of leaving them on the floor.