Unless you are dating the Unabomber, living in a monastery, or have, like Joaquin Pheonix, given up on personal hygiene and sentences containing more than two words, you know that Valentine’s Day is this Saturday.
My inbox was overloaded this morning with ideas for celebrating that most ephemeral, ecstatic, and agonizing of human emotions: Love.
Finestationery.com offers tips for writing the perfect love letter. Sephora.com recommends O-Plump and Facial In A Bottle (not as dirty as they sound) to make yourself more beautiful for your lover. World Market helps make sure the economy doesn’t get in the way of a night of sloppy, drunken sex and a follow-up hangover by offering two ugly-ass, red heart champagne flutes for only $5.98. Ticketmaster reminds you that you can surprise your love with tickets for an evening with the Simon Cowell-created, uber-romantic manband Il Divo to be suffered through at a later date.
Before you accuse me of being unromantic, let me tell you I’ve seen every Nora Ephron movie multiple times and I always cry. I have Jason Mraz’s song “Lucky I’m In Love” on loop on my iPod. And there’s nothing I enjoy more than a candlelight soak in a hot bath with a glass of champagne and a hot guy, or my husband. I love chocolate, flowers, fine dining, all that romantic crap, but I am just not that into Valentine’s Day. So much pressure to prove our love with syrupy cards, gifts, and over-priced dining experiences on this arbitrary day when I’m trying to get the taxes done and pick up dry cleaning.
I don’t need an iCal reminder to tell me to say those three little words. It’s quickie time.
Dinner out on Valentine’s Day is always disappointing. The restaurant is overbooked. There’s a special menu that’s never as good as the regular fare. The waiter is always harried and surly. The entrée is out before the salad. They’re out of the chocolate soufflé. We have to shout to hear each other above the din of love and a house band cover of “Lady In Red” that makes us want to get a double order of cynanide brownies a la mode. To top it off, the bill is outrageous because of the surcharge for the privilege of being “indulged” on this most romantic of days. And you absolutely cannot complain. A love like yours is priceless.
Yes, guys, I know. I’m a catch. Imagine being able to spend Valentine’s Day watching “Pineapple Express” and eating pizza. Then getting to have wild sex with a beautiful woman. My husband thinks it’s great too. This year I might even join him. If he brings me flowers.
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