Ann Ipock
            Humorist, author, speaker


 

 

Columns
 


Georgetown Times

Valentine’s Day: Don’t make it hard on my heart

By Ann Ipock                                                             February 14, 2007

This is an open letter to boyfriends and husbands (especially my husband, Russell) to remind you that today is a special holiday — and one you don’t want to miss.
Of course, you already know this unless you’ve been hiding under a rock. For weeks, we’ve been bombarded with sales inserts inside the newspapers, banners displayed in store windows and TV and radio announcers counting down the days. In fact, some of us have just gone right ahead and reminded our better halves of this important celebration.

Forgetting this holiday ranks right up there with anniversary and birthday omissions. In other words, bad! But just in case you didn’t get this newsflash, here’s a hint: Cupid, red hearts, cards, chocolate, wine, flowers and for the more refined, jewelry. The only thing missing is, to quote the Beatles’ song, “All we need is love.”
Today is none other than Valentine’s Day; and this is one wife who can’t wait to see how her husband responds.
Ever since Russell brought me home a few half-wilted pink carnations on Valentine’s Day a few years back, he’s been trying to make up for that disappointment. I know it’s the thought that counts, but after my allergic reaction — the peppery smell caused me to itch, sneeze and have watery eyes — he promised to never let another carnation enter our home. Since then, he’s brought me the more traditional candy and roses.

But the year he made that boo-boo, he admitted to stopping in a grocery store late in the day — I’m sure it was an afterthought — and found nothing left except that small bundle of raggedy petals. That should have told him to keep searching.
We just happened to go inside that very same grocery store over the weekend and I not only hinted, I said it outright: “Please don’t give me carnations this year for Valentine’s Day.” He told me not to worry, that he wasn’t planning to.
Actually, I don’t think he was planning on giving me anything. Russell can be erratic with holidays and gift-giving.
I never know what to expect, a full-scale celebration or a card and a kiss. But later I actually did see him sneak over to the card section.
In fact, when we checked out, he had the checker stuff something inside a bag, then he ran inside the house and down the hall — I’m sure to hide it.

Every Valentine’s Day I have this scenario set up my mind — doesn’t every woman? Except it never comes true.
Russell will come through the door after work with a huge smile and a bouquet of European flowers hid behind his back — calla lilies, rugosa roses, cymbidium orchids and lavender.
Next he’ll swoop me off my feet and swing me around just to show his happiness to see me.
Then he’ll tell me to close my eyes and he’ll present me with a lovely keepsake — perhaps a crystal paperweight, an engraved letter opener or a gold locket.

After a champagne toast, whereupon I read the lovely poem he wrote me inside the card, we’ll head out to a surprise dinner-and-dance river cruise. The night sky will be twinkling with stars and a full moon, and we’ll giggle like teenagers. We’ll finish off the meal with flaming Cherries Jubilee for dessert. After this, we’ll come home and watch a classic TV movie—maybe the one with Cary Grant, an “Affair to Remember.” No, that one’s too sad. How about “Sleepless in Seattle” (which has a much happier ending)? After that, we’ll fall into bed and snuggle — a perfect ending to a romantic, memorable and fabulous Valentine’s Day. Ahhhhhh…
Wait a minute. What was I thinking? I don’t believe this fantasy is going to take place after all.

No, it would take the paramedics way too long to revive me after I fainted. And that would be just from the sight of that bouquet — we’d never make it to the keepsake gift or the dinner cruise. A surprise is one thing but an all-out shock like that would just be too hard on my heart. On second thought, our usual quiet dinner out, followed by exchanging cards with corny but sincere prose is about all us old lovers can handle. And that’s the truth!

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