Just when we thought it was safe to venture into the greeting
card aisles again.
Just when we thought it was safe to venture into the greeting card aisles again.
Christmas cards were tucked away until next year… well, until August at least – and we thought calm would reign, if only for a little while.
Suddenly, up and down the rows of routine birthday and anniversary cards sprung masses of red and white proclamations of Forever Love.
Valentine’s Day.
Over the years, I’ve learned that this celebration is one holiday pointed directly toward women – and a time when the male side of the romance equation finds it all too easy to land, posthaste, in the dog house.
CAUTION TO GUYS: Play it safe when selecting a Valentine gift for your sweetheart. Stick to the items that are tried and true: Jewelry, flowers, candy all work. And if last year’s gift drew particularly bad reviews, a romantic trip or new car work miracles. But never – and I do mean NEVER – come home bearing a gag gift. Or anything that smells funny, has to do with cleaning something, or involves farmyard implements.
A case in point:
Many years ago I was a youthful bride, newly established in my brief “starter” marriage. That’s the one where some of us beginners got on-the-job training in hopes we’d get it right the next time … kind of the “hors d’oeuvre” course of matrimony.
So I’d anticipated that my first Valentine’s Day with my young husband would be the greatest in romantic history. I envisioned tender gifts, heart-felt glances over a candle-lit dinner, holding hands under the table as soft music played in the background.
And it didn’t start out half bad. Hubby entered the apartment carrying a lovely pink box tied with a white satin bow. With a wide grin, he handed it to me.
Suddenly, something was dreadfully fishy. His smile was just a little too maniacal to qualify as even remotely amorous.
Passionate expectations swirling rapidly down the drain, I pulled off the ribbon and opened the pretty box to find…eating utensils.
A perky card inside read, “The Dieter’s Best Friend.” A silver fork bearing broken tines and a matching spoon with a large hole in its business end were nestled inside the silky lining. The knife’s blade was sheared off – a wise decision by the manufacturer since any sharp object would presently be planted within the giftor by the giftee.
OK, to be fair, I’d been mumbling about needing to take off a couple of pounds. As newlyweds, we found pasta an inexpensive and satisfying dinner staple, but spaghetti every night hadn’t been too kind to my hips.
“I thought you’d think it was FUNNY,” he desperately explained to my hastily retreating back. Too late – I was flouncing out the door toward the car, keys in hand, but not before giving the unappreciated gift a mighty fling toward its donor.
So my romantic Valentine dinner turned out to be me, a greasy burger and limp fries at a coffee shop. Funny thing was, I knew all along that the day couldn’t have lived up to such high expectations, that it would all be a great disappointment.
These days I’m a bit more realistic about Valentine’s Day, and I know it’s the other 364 days of the year that comprise the true yardstick of a loving relationship. Whether it’s a new infatuation or an old romance, the day-to-day fabric of life is the true link that strengthens the bond and makes love last.
This Valentine’s Day, “Old Romance” will be out on the golf course while I prepare some paperwork for our tax returns. Like many other couples, in the evening we’ll enjoy a quiet dinner somewhere downtown.
And I can guarantee you this: our silverware will be intact.
Gale Hammond is a 22-year Morgan Hill resident. Reach her at Ga*********@*ol.com.
