V-Day, D-Day

Like every American male, I procrastinated.  I don’t go shopping for mundane things very often, so there is little opportunity for me to buy Valentine’s Day cards early.  Yesterday after work, I went to the nearest CVS figuring to get the dastardly deed done with as little pain as possible.  It was about 6:00pm and the place was packed.

CVS.

Packed.

I hate crowds in unexpected places.

I found my way to the wall of cards and it was three deep with people.  Making matters worse was the young female standing in front of the cards I needed to look at reading every single one.  While moderately hot, she was apparently not moderately intelligent.  She was taking forever to get through the hackneyed prose each American Greeting had to offer her.

I took my jacket off because I began to heat up and sweat.  Fantastic.  Finally, I asserted myself and politely said “Excuse me, can I get through here?”  I was on a mission of sorts.  Not only did I need a card for the Mrs., I needed one for my daughter and one my son could give to his mom.

Once I made it to the wall of cards, I nailed it.  Three cards, three minutes.  Bam, outta there.  I like to get cards with little to no text.  It’s easier to write my own thoughts.  Rarely does a pre-crafted card manage to hit on key points in my relationship with Mrs_Blood, so I normally choose to do it myself.

All the while I thought to myself what a ridiculous holiday this Valentine’s Day has turned out to me.  It’s horrible.  It is manufactured, stale, and tiring.

It’s no surprise that the retaliatory Steak and Blowjob day arose.  It’s also no surprise that there are those who justifiably feel it should be a week-long celebration.  Hell, I’d be satisfied with meatloaf and 5 minutes with my favorite Briana Banks porn.  But I digress.

With all that said, I have a recommendation.  Trust me, this works.  To really celebrate your significant other, do it when it’s least expected.  Here’s one way to come up with a random day.  Roll two dice.  The result will be the month of the year.  (I know you’ll never get January, but we’re done with January, K?)  Then open a calendar to the month in question and throw a dart at it.  There’s your day.

On that random day, come home with your S.O.’s favorite flowers and perhaps bring home a nice meal or even cook one yourself.  It doesn’t even have to be that extravagant; the fact that it’s a surprise means the entire world to them.  Even though I can’t figure out women 95% of the time, the remaining 5% is easily handled with random acts of kindness.

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