Another Valentine's Day has come and gone.
Are there half-dead roses on your kitchen counter?
Do you feel guilty about having "just one more" chocolate each time you woke up to pee last night?
Is the $5 Hallmark card your husband quickly picked out and signed "I love you, honey. -Me" doing its required time on the counter before it hits the trash next week?
Is your husband just glad that he remembered (and barely survived) yet another female-driven holiday?
One of the many reasons I enjoy this particular holiday above all others is because of this fact: If you consider yourself female and if you are loved/were loved/wish to be loved, then you are absolutely required to make some kind of a digital statement about love (i.e. if you were one of the select few who recieved flowers at work and didn't post a picture to Facebook, then you quite possibly need medical attention).
The proof I needed occured this morning when I completed my daily ritual of latte+Facebook. I witnessed overwhelming statements of "love" captured in badly-taken photographs: a box of chocolates, a dozen roses still wrapped in celophane, a stuffed animal, a very overpriced piece of jewelry. I also witnessed updates of those lonely few who found themselves without gift-givers this holiday. They mostly posted photographs of their cats with captions like "At least he will always love me." And THEN there were those whose intentions were, for whatever reason, to rebel against/make fun of/provide us with horrid facts about the day. Such statuses read something like "Did you know that St. Valentine acutally committed suicide?" This special bunch were also guilty of doing things like shortening Valentine's Day to VDay (which, according to ManRepeller, actually stands for "Vagina Day") or choosing to ignore any type of celebration and proceed with normal life.
All in all, Husband knows me best. He knows that I choose to float somewhere between chocolates and felines and vaginas. So I'll be frank and just put it all out there: My husband really, truly knows how to make me happy come VDay: He knows how to KISS.
(i.e. Keep It Simple, Stupid.)
So the day went like this: I slept in. After gently waking me up and giving me my space for the first hour, Husband presented me with a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. He then accompanied me to the mall and instructed me to go buy some clothes while he [happily] sat down and read a book (alongside ten other male septogenarians). During that time I had an unhindered, relaxed, guilt-free hour of spending money on whatever I wanted. After treating me to Auntie Anne's, he then proceeded to let me alone to watch many, many reruns of Kitchen Nightmares and Diner's Drive-Ins and Dives.
This was my perfect VDay gift.
This day may actually sound suspiciously familiar. You might remember he gave me a similar "gift" a few months back for my birthday #28. I like to think that I am super easy to please. On the same token, I may just be extremely picky. Whatever the case, I requested this particular "gift" for any and all future celebratory events. Think of how easy he has it now! No more guessing! No more listening for dropped hints! No more reading between the lines of what I say in order buy the perfect gift for the next VDay, anniversary, birthday, half-birthday, Christmas, or MLK Day! He will be living a completely stress-free husband-life from here on out. This man has got it made.
So, I implore you, Woman, on this day, the day of the half-dead roses, lessen your husband's stress (which indeed is a great VDay present for him) and tell him precisely what it is that you want. Release him from the prison of trying to figure out exactly what it is that you want (which is only possible in romantic movies) and then consequently buying you what Hallmark thinks you want. After all, there's only so much room in that Unwanted Gift Box hidden away in the garage. As it happens, you will "treasure" the gift long enough for him to forget he ever gave it to you (and long enough for you to not feel guilty about getting rid of it), until you attempt to earn some money back by selling it at a yard sale.
You may indeed want that box of chocolates. Or those roses. Or maybe a basil plant instead. Or cold, hard cash. Or a day alone. Or a day away just-the-two-of-us. Or freshly baked cookies and shopping and equal parts Guy and Gordon. Whatever it may be, be forthrite and just tell him.
This is Dr. Melissa here, enlightening you with another secret for a long, successful marriage.
And don't forget to water those roses.