Happy Valentine’s Day to all you little love birds out there. Happy Love day to all of you who are totally compatible. Happy V Day to the majority of the world. Happy Valentine’s Dud to me. And, to the hubster!
I saw this a couple of times on FB today and then I saw that Trace had posted it for Kat.
It makes me kind of sad because Valentine’s Day has never been a very special occasion in my marriage. I know, I know. Mostly my own fault. Many, many years ago Leonard gave me roses. I thought it was a terrible waste of money to cut perfectly healthy, gorgeous, growing flowers and put them in a vase, only to have them dead in a week or less. I told him as much. I said, “Sheesh, if you’re going to waste your money on something that is going in the trash in a week, just give me the money instead of flowers.” Or something like that. He pretty much never bought me anything again. Seriously. For. The. Rest. Of. Our. Lives!
Blew that! No flowers and definitely no money!
Today at work there must have been 100 plus bouquets of flowers brought in from the local florists. So much that the secretary had extra tables set up in her back room and had sheets of paper with the alphabet. ABC goes here; DEF, right here, etc. It smelled heavenly! There were also non-floral things as well. Big darling-wrapped bags of chocolate-covered cinnamon bears. A basket full to the brim with all things red and pink. A darling Valentine Bear with a pink bow and a cute little heart on its chest that played romantic music. Tons of heart-shaped and helium-filled balloons. Lots of cute, thoughtful, adorable things from various and crushy admirers.
I went to WalMart last night and got cutsie things for the gals I work with, things for the sisters I visit teach, and something for Hubby. I wrapped them all, put them in cute heart-splattered cellophane bags. Tied them with three colors a festive ribbon — red, pink and white. And then tied on an adorable hand-made card. I arranged hubby’s things near his bed. A box of chocolates. A red velvet cupcake, a huge heart-shaped sugar cookie and a plate of homemade cherry-o-lets. I bought a perfect card and spelled his name carefully with, of course, a red pen, and propped it up.
[Can I just say I know those aren’t complete sentences and should have commas instead of periods. You do know that is for emphasis, right? I mean, seriously, I’m an English major.] [Sort of.]
So of course I’m not expecting anything from the hub. But it still breaks my heart a teensy bit to be so ignored. He rarely remembers my birthday or Mother’s Day. He has no clue about any other special occasion. Once I asked if he wanted to go out to dinner and he said, “No, just bring me back a double cheese burger with onion rings. I’m like . . . “Hello! Go buy your own heart attack, mister!”
I’m just saying! I’d take the little bit of weirdness! I’d take the mutual weirdness!