I got an email from my daughter yesterday. She was making heart-shaped brownies to serve to her boyfriend for Valentine’s Day. She bought his favorite candy. "What are you and Dad doing?" she asked me.
"No plans here," was my answer. "But that’s OK!" I assured her. And she knows that. She’s been through the entire evolution of our gift-giving habits - from no gifts to really bad gifts to no gifts and finally, a few thoughtful gifts each year. (But never for Valentine’s Day.)
My husband and I were married in the month of November. Our first Christmas together was so hectic that we agreed to not buy gifts for one another. I may have even been the one to suggest it. But when there was no gift or card for my birthday in January, I was devastated. I pouted. He didn’t notice. Subtlety is ineffective with Charlie. It’s like taking poison and waiting for him to die. There was a blow-up, and a "talk", and an agreement that there would be gifts the following Christmas.
And there were. If memory serves, there was a dust buster, a window fan, and a no-slip safety step-ladder. They came in large boxes, he wrapped them, and they looked great under the tree. The following year there was a power drill and a blender. I began to see a pattern. Our local Ace Hardware was his go-to store for presents for the wife. They’re close, open late on Christmas Eve, and not too crowded.
We had another "gift discussion." It was loud. We resumed the no-gift policy.
Early marriage is tough, or at least ours was. There wasn’t a lot said or written about the fundamental differences between men and women in 1979. Most women, including myself, were still busy trying to prove that the genders were the same - thinking that we had to be the same to be equal. I had not yet read Dave Barry’s Complete Guide to Guys. (Laugh if you will, but that book was an epiphany for me.) I was still thinking that if he really loved me, well, he would notice when I was unhappy. And he would know why. I kept taking that poison and waiting for him to die.
I don’t know how many years into the marriage we were before I had another epiphany: Charlie has never been, and never will be, a guy whose love can be measured in flowers and jewelry. Mr. Romance he’s not.
Mr. Dependable is who he is. Mr. Wonderful Father. Mr. Take the Cat to the Vet in the Middle of the Night and Get Up For Work the Next Morning and Never Complain. Mr. Sure You Can Start a New Business Don’t Worry About the Money I’m Proud of You.
That’s who I married. That’s my Valentine.
"No plans here," was my answer. "But that’s OK!" I assured her. And she knows that. She’s been through the entire evolution of our gift-giving habits - from no gifts to really bad gifts to no gifts and finally, a few thoughtful gifts each year. (But never for Valentine’s Day.)
My husband and I were married in the month of November. Our first Christmas together was so hectic that we agreed to not buy gifts for one another. I may have even been the one to suggest it. But when there was no gift or card for my birthday in January, I was devastated. I pouted. He didn’t notice. Subtlety is ineffective with Charlie. It’s like taking poison and waiting for him to die. There was a blow-up, and a "talk", and an agreement that there would be gifts the following Christmas.
And there were. If memory serves, there was a dust buster, a window fan, and a no-slip safety step-ladder. They came in large boxes, he wrapped them, and they looked great under the tree. The following year there was a power drill and a blender. I began to see a pattern. Our local Ace Hardware was his go-to store for presents for the wife. They’re close, open late on Christmas Eve, and not too crowded.
We had another "gift discussion." It was loud. We resumed the no-gift policy.
Early marriage is tough, or at least ours was. There wasn’t a lot said or written about the fundamental differences between men and women in 1979. Most women, including myself, were still busy trying to prove that the genders were the same - thinking that we had to be the same to be equal. I had not yet read Dave Barry’s Complete Guide to Guys. (Laugh if you will, but that book was an epiphany for me.) I was still thinking that if he really loved me, well, he would notice when I was unhappy. And he would know why. I kept taking that poison and waiting for him to die.
I don’t know how many years into the marriage we were before I had another epiphany: Charlie has never been, and never will be, a guy whose love can be measured in flowers and jewelry. Mr. Romance he’s not.
Mr. Dependable is who he is. Mr. Wonderful Father. Mr. Take the Cat to the Vet in the Middle of the Night and Get Up For Work the Next Morning and Never Complain. Mr. Sure You Can Start a New Business Don’t Worry About the Money I’m Proud of You.
That’s who I married. That’s my Valentine.
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