| Did you get what you wanted? | ||
| First published in The Hartford Courant | Select another essay | |
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My husband is actually pretty good with Valentine's rituals. I hope it's not only because I start leaving subtle hints around the middle of January (after he's just breathed a sigh of relief at having remembered my birthday). My subtle hints include huge notes to myself (wink, wink) plastered on the fridge that read something like "Remember to buy Valentine's cards for Michael!!" Obviously, I'm not looking for spontaneity here, I'm looking for an easy way to keep us both happy. I know women who buy their husbands cards for these husbands to write out and give back to these same women (they better give them back to these same women ...) but I've never had to go that far. No. Michael does a good job of keeping the Valentine's flame burning, albeit on a back burner. Because Valentine's Day is just not a big deal for him. When I talk about it, he regards me with the same indulgent false smile he might use if a nut sat next to him on the subway. What's the big deal? Why do I let myself get manipulated emotionally by Hallmark? Why should cocoa manufacturers worldwide twist my personal life around their collective finger? Why not be content to weave romance into our everyday lives and leave it at that? He believes this emphasis on Feb. 14 is a plot, maybe even a conspiracy, among women to get nice guys such as himself tangled up in our blues. He may be right. Something like 80 percent of all Valentine's cards are sold to women. There are, increasingly, whole lines of cards designed for women to send to other women -- not female romantic partners, mind you, but just ordinary friends -- as sort of compensatory items in recognition of the fact that girls just want to get cards on V-Day. There should also be, I think, a line of belated -- Valentine's cards to be bought and sent on days like today -- in order to rectify any imbalances that might have occurred. More terrifying and heartbreaking than not getting a card yourself is getting a card from someone who wasn't on your list Remember this from grade school? Remember the kid who, like Charlie Brown, seemed to be perpetually forgotten? There should be casualty lists; there should be Valentine's triage for such cases. I hear from friends with young children that in today's enlightened elementary schools, everybody gets cards -- that the kids create and give their cards to every member of their class. I'm glad to hear it This seems far more humane than our barbaric practice back in the '60s of buying press-out prefab slips and sneaking them into the hands of only a few of our tiny cronies, thereby constructing an atmosphere of creepy self- congratulatory elitism, which leads in adult life to such savage practices as grant applications and the possibility of post-tenure review. Not that I'm bitter. Actually, having said all this, I must admit to liking Valentine's Day. Like Thanksgiving, it's a day I see mostly as an excuse to eat and indulge various appetites; chocolate and champagne are a nice combination, let's face it, even if you have to buy them for yourself. And, as part of the conspiracy team, I do usually get a lot of cards -- yes, from my girlfriends -- because I send a lot of them. I'm thrilled to see more and more really funny cards out there, ones from the likes of cartoonist Nicole Hollander (whose "Sylvia" character is the best thing since chocolate and champagne) and Cathy Guisewite, whose irreverent but understanding perspectives on the holiday (and on life) are perfectly geared to those of us who know better but still hope to get a candy heart or two. Certainly laughter and Valentine's Day make the perfect couple. And if you didn't get what you wanted! Never mind. There's always next year, when you can start leaving those notes on the fridge in November, if necessary. You can buy an armful of cards today to give out next year, you can eat half-price chocolate, and you can find for yourself what no one else could locate for you -- the discovery of what you're looking forward to so that next Feb. 15 you'll wake up with a smile on your face, no matter what. | ||