This morning before I left for work I saw commercials for:
1) A local grocery store that sells candy, cards, and roses for less! (Less than who, they didn’t say. But for less!)
2) A company that will send your wife or girlfriend or whomever you want to see in lingerie, a “Pajama-gram”
3) The Vermont Teddy Bear company which apparently renders women in an office wearing too much eye make-up unable to say anything other than AWWWWWWWW.
So it’s almost Valentine’s Day.
I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.
It’s not for religious reasons or anything, it’s just, well, my husband’s birthday is the day after Valentine’s Day and I always have to think of a gift for that and I just don’t have the energy or fortitude to think of something else. Plus, I am possibly the least romantic person alive, with the exception of, you know, my husband.
Last year my husband worked in an office full of women. He was the only man in his entire department, nay, on his entire floor. On Valentine’s Day a lot of the women got cards and flowers and candy and teddy bears. They all cooed and, per Jason, “talked all freaking day about it!” One of them asked him, “What are you getting your wife for Valentine’s Day?”
He replied, “Nothing. We don’t really celebrate it.”
The group of women cackled and then talked for approximately ½ hour about how *I* really DID want something for Valentine’s Day and he was screwing up big-time by not getting me anything and maybe I SAID I didn’t care, but really I was going to be mad later.
Yeah. These women who had never met me, never spoken to me, and have no idea who I am or what I’m about decided that I would be mad at my husband.
The other day I heard my husband on the phone saying, “Well, my daughter is selling Girl Scout cookies, if you’d like to buy some.”
Biologically, she’s not his daughter. But he treats her like his daughter.
That’s better than candy. Or flowers. Or a teddy bear wearing a leather jacket.