2/14/03
Today is Valentine's Day.
This morning, my wife gave me a funny, topically relevant card covered in candy hearts. You know, the ones with the messages that say, "Hug Me", "Love You", "Cutie". Plus I got a big bag of my favorite candy.
In return, Debbie got a sleepy "Thank you".
She bent down and kissed me. I was sitting on the closet floor in my slept-in undershirt, unshaven, hair matted with "sleep filth" and breath that could be used in an al Qaeda dirty bomb.
That's all she got.
At work, I'll head to the mall during lunch and scramble to find the perfect gift. One that completely demonstrates that my love for Debbie is boundless. I'm thinking they have those at Sears.
Yes, I've stumbled. I was once a decent player in the romance arena. I had a complete arsenal of weapons to use in my attempts to blow my wife's socks off. That arsenal still exists, but I've got a little lock picking to do to get to it.
I could make all the typical excuses and blame a career, a mortgage, a kid and just the fact that we've been together for eight years or so. But those excuses are lame. Particularly when confronted with the fact that I still love Debbie as much as I did when I had her Valentine's tribute ready days or weeks before the actual day.
The list of reasons I love her would be endless. From the way she sometimes jiggles the bed at night when she's desperately trying to hide the fact that she's laughing at me. To how she carefully manufactures teeth from Playdough for our daughter as they make believe they're improving dental conditions in some guy's plastic head.
She surprises me. She challenges me. She infuriates me (sometimes). She soothes me. She tempts me. She saves me. She smells nice. She has the kind of skin that poets write about and newborn babies envy. And, like I said, the list is endless.
The point is, romance isn't an obligation that demands a mad dash to the mall. It's a natural consequence of living with a spectacular person like Debbie... that sometimes results in mad dashes to the mall.
What am I going to get her? I'm not sure. I usually don't buy greeting cards because I refuse to accept the idea that a stranger could express my sentiments better than I could do myself. The truth of the matter is that I use that line just to excuse myself for forgetting to buy a greeting card. But don't worry, I'll find something. I'll give it to her and she'll smile and I'll more than likely be hugged and kissed.
What she may not know, however, is that whatever I find at Sears is merely a reminder. It's a Post-It note that says, "I love you and romance isn't dead. It's just sitting on the closet floor, sleepy, unshaven and in its undies. It'll wake up soon and get showered, brush it's teeth and be better than ever. I promise."