The internet is really wasted on me and wife Melissa around Valentine’s Day.
If you do a news search for “Valentine’s Day,” there are tips, hints, reminders, suggestions, pointers and guilt trips aplenty — but none that really mesh with our lifestyle.
Surely you’ve seen the breathless suggestions of “getaways” to mountain bed-and-breakfasts or tropical resorts. In my family dynamic, “getaways” are more along the lines of “Get away from those cookies; they’re for the school bake sale! Get away from that website; you don’t know WHERE that woman has been!”
Numerous stories tout “making memories” on Valentine’s Day. This will be our 28th Valentine’s Day since we started dating, and those occasions sort of blur together. I know some couples have a freakish “Rain Man” talent for recalling every detail of every Valentine’s Day, but I can live without ever-present images of moonlit walks and carriage rides. At my age, I just want to remember why I entered the kitchen carrying a toilet brush, a jumper cable and a Monopoly top hat.
Seasoned journalists take time away from practicing their Pulitzer Prize acceptance speech in order to advise us on the best DECORATING plans for Valentine’s Day. Hey, just getting the Christmas tree down was an engineering feat comparable to the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad. Why should I rush out to decorate my home with a mixture of flowers and internal organs? To me, love means never having to say, “Hey, Hannibal Lecter would love this place!”
Countless articles recommend splurging on Valentine gadgets, jewelry and fine dining. All of these expenditures can produce heavy breathing and anticipation — on the part of the credit card companies. (“This is the month the Tyrees will forget to pay their bill on time and wind up paying a lot of interest!”) Since we have a joint checking account, we know there’s no such thing as free bling.
Do-it-yourself gifts, reporters gush, tell your Significant Other how important they are to you. (“Melissa, can you drive me to the E.R.? That origami rose project took a nasty twist…”)
Some stories try to coax you into buying your PETS Valentine’s Day gifts. I already spring for food, veterinary care and flea control year-round for my cats. Buying cute widdle Cupid jumpsuits would only confuse them — and create unreasonable expectations for Cinco de Mayo. (“I want to march in and out, in and out, in and out to the tune of my personal mariachi band!”)
If I shy away from putting Valentine’s Day on a pedestal, it’s because my Bible quotes the psalmist as saying, “This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice in it,” not “This is ONE of the days that the Man Upstairs has phoned in, but wait until February 14 gets here! Hubba hubba.”
With our little gestures, emotional support, sacrifices and reiterations of “I love you,” Melissa and I try to make every day Valentine’s Day. (Judging by some of the stuff growing voluntarily in my man cave, I also try to make every day ARBOR DAY, but I digress.)
Maybe we pioneered “It is what it is.” If Valentine’s Day is indistinguishable from February 13 and 15, fine. If our schedules, finances and health let something special happen, well, that’s just gravy.
“Hey, get away from the gravy! You know what that does to your cholesterol…”
*Sigh*
Danny welcomes email responses at tyreetyrades@aol.com and visits to his Facebook fan page “Tyree’s Tyrades.” Danny’s’ weekly column is distributed exclusively by Cagle Cartoons Inc. newspaper syndicate.
