Congratulations. For whatever reason you’ve managed to get yourself to where you and I and Valentine’s Day could be construed as having something to do with one another, either that or you stumbled onto this blog by accident in your unending quest for cheez whiz and porn. Here at peregringa we have until recently upheld a time-honored tradition of scoffing at Valentine’s Day. Unfortunately for you, we have been noticing lately we are much more of a princess than we previously believed, so downer for you on that one.
I feel like a lot of the guys I know –except you, of course, gentle reader – tend to do a crappy job at Valentine’s Day on principle. They’re smart and anti-consumerist, free-thinking and profound guys. As a consequence, their perfectly lovely and wonderful girlfriends silently sit out a day when other women unflinchingly demand diamond jewelry, candle-light and roses, listening to their boyfriends bluster about Hallmark holidays and marketing ploys aimed at our essential loneliness and inability to communicate our love for one another through everyday acts and blah blah blah. And when compelled by society or their girlfriend or whomever to observe Valentine’s Day, I suspect they go out and, in protest, they buy a clump of red roses and a cardboard box of Hershey’s chocolate and call it a day.
I used to agree with the whole Hallmark holiday thing, but then I realized that’s hooey. It’s only a Hallmark holiday when people like you – not you, of course, gentle reader – make it one by neglecting to see past red roses and Hershey’s chocolate. Mind you, there’s a whole industry hell-bent on seeing to it you don’t see past these repeat offenders. They’re sending you the message: “Women are CONFUSING! There’s no way you could EVER anticipate what the girl who loves and trusts you and has shared her innermost fears, desires and aspirations with you might enjoy receiving from you as a thoughtful gesture of love. Plus you’re a dude, not some romantic pussy who SHOPS. Buy her one of these here fat f*ckin diamonds and you should be safe.”
Retailers also know that, given item x that they don’t usually buy, all men – except you, of course, gentle reader – will go straight out and buy the largest quantity of the worst quality variety of x, and also pay too much for it. Given their generally superior shopping acumen, it’s surprising how many women buy into this. Case in point is the way, as soon as a girl gets engaged, they’re all scrambling to get a glimpse of the ring, often an unsightly, sweater-snagging lump of rock that overpowers her hand.
But that’s no excuse, gentlemen. You know better. Ironically, it’s the same guys who feel affronted by the emotional manipulation of the Valentine’s Day racket who are getting duped by it, cornered either into empty mercantilism or inaction. That’s a damn cop-out. This year I challenge you to protest Valentine’s Day by doing something authentic, creative and personal. Oh and by the way you aren’t nearly as inept at this as you think you are.
Maybe this all seems picky, but come on, I’d rather have nothing than get a gift that says “I know I’m supposed to give you something but don’t really want to take the time to think about you as an individual.” Having said that, gee whiz flowers sure are purty. Flowers are great, actually, as long as they’re not yellow and purple. Too pep rally. Dark chocolate is never a poor choice although I’ll thank you to stay away from anything nougat-related. A guiding rule should be that less is always more. Instead of blowing 20 bucks on roses and baby’s breath, go for a single, potted orchid. It’s sexier and more exotic and will still be blooming months from now, as long as I remember to water it, which is, frankly, doubtful. Rather than a dozen grocery store bon-bons, spring for one truffle hand-made by your neighborhood chocolatier with some weird-ass ingredient like lavender or chili powder. Then feed it to me. Naked.
All I ask is that you remember that, while I haven’t mysteriously morphed into one of those mall girls overnight, I’d still love to be acknowledged on the one day of the year you can be as smarmy as you want and people have to suppress their gag reflex. And get ready because I’ll probably do the same to you.
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