Ok, so let me get straight to it, yesterday was my first Valentine’s Day with a another human being* (*not to say it’s the first Valentine’s spent with company, I have enjoyed many a V Day with cats, TV, wine, chocolate…). However I just can’t seem to get my head around making a song and dance out of chocolate and roses. I thought it would make complete sense when you have someone to buy stuff for but instead it’s actually worse. Its like Inception, the deeper and more involved you get the less and less it makes any shred of sense.
For me, the pinnacle of the V Day confusion and inner turmoil was the important part of selecting a low to medium value cruddy piece of tree we call ‘gift cards’ (you can probably see where this post is going already). The difficulty selecting a suitable Valentine’s Day card embodied completely the inner awkward-come-British-come-Alice reaction to the whole Western festival.
Now most people (including the tall bearded one) just write in their cards, “To X…Love Y” No one gave me this memo. As a result, instead of getting a cutesy, charming note, my Valentine essentially got a passive-aggressive message reflecting the inner frustrations of his other half’s quest to find (and buy) said card.
Message reads as follows:
My God, if you knew how much middle class, British, stress I went through just to find this ruddy card. Like seriously why do all Valentines cards have to be either so ridiculously over the top (since when are men turned on by fluffy bears?!) or look like they belong at a funeral? Christ, where is the middle ground? It’s like buying low fat hummus when there’s a shortage – it shouldn’t be that big a deal but it damn well is!
Anyway, happy Valentine’s day. Your face and personality are kinda awesome (unlike my lovey dovey card writing abilities). I bought you man stuff (vodka + energy drink) because they contain red. Boom – should plan weddings.
Christ, don’t make me write another one of these.
And let it be known that I deliver on my promises, this is what the tall one got from me…
(See what I did with the bubble wand? After a bottle of vodka that bubble wand is going to be the greatest thing since sliced bread.)
I know right? Best damn girlfriend there is.