We Don't Do Valentine's Day in This House

Last night we had to stop at the grocery store to pick up some sparkling water for a barbecue we were going to. I waited in the car while Bob and Grace went in. When the came out, they were carrying one of those recycled plastic grocery bags (double bagged) with the following contents: two large bottles of sparkling water, one bottle of 100% cranberry juice (no sugar added), a can of dog food and a red, heart shaped, medium sized, red box of nasty Russell Stover chocolates - which I consumed despite their inferior quality.

Bob took the candy out of the bag right way and threw it at me through the car window saying: "Here. I didn't do anything for Valentine's day so this is it."

In truth, I couldn't have cared less. I long ago stopped expecting anything romantic from him on this or any other day. He's not that kind of guy. He used to try to do stuff but it was so utterly offensive to romance that I put an end to it. Not that it was obscene, just stupid. A couple of years ago was sort of the last straw. He came home with a gigantic card (about 3' tall) that he got at the car wash. Yes. The car wash. I am not kidding. It was one of those lame cartoon cards that has some incredibly insipid "joke" sentiment - the ones that are no doubt written and printed by a bunch of guys who drink a lot of beer and go to monster truck rallies every weekend. "Honey, you're one of a kind..." (open card) "...who else could put up with all my farts?" Yeah, those kind of cards.

On our very first "formal" date, we went to a very lovely bistro restaurant with lots of ambiance in the valley. We had a lovely table with candles and a bottle of very good wine. We "dressed" - it was a big deal. I loved everything about it - until Bob decided to put a small amount of his meal in his spoon and launch it at me like a catapult. Just so I wouldn't forget that his real name was Peter Pan.

Since then, Peter and I have had a number of mind numbing romantic dates. Not the least of which was our honeymoon. It was the only thing he had to plan and his plan turned out to be "Let's get there and find out what there is to do." We drove around Napa aimlessly and didn't really do anything. And we really only had a day to do it because we had to get home and back to the girls (we got married over a 3-day-weekend and tied it to a business trip of mine so we could write some of it off.)

Flowers have always been from the Albertson's supermarket - usually with the price tag still on the cellophane. And I have gotten an extraordinary number of balloons over the years. I really don't like balloons. And on more than one occasion, he has allowed our girls (as children) to choose my gifts. I have received stuffed animals, dolls, cheap jewelry - all of which soon found permanent residence in their rooms (as planned).

When he does get me something serious - he gets very upset when I am invariably disappointed. Like the Christmas I told him I wanted a very small television for the bedroom and he got me a 40" set - one that still takes up a full 1/3 of the closet space. Or the other time when I asked for a very small, light weight, thin, but good quality camera that I could carry with me easily in my purse and instead he bought me a $500 camera that is an excellent camera and does absolutely everything but is bulky and needs its own purse and must be worn around my neck and requires 3 hours of reading to know how it works. And guess who winds up carrying it? Because Bob doesn't really care about photographs. He likes having them (and he's a good photographer) but taking them on vacation and stuff is not worth the hassle to him.

This is not to say that there aren't a couple of really incredibly beautiful gifts he has given me - but they are so few and far between that I practically display them under glass.

So romantic? Not so much. Unless you want to count the fact that at least once a week he rubs

my hands and feet or brushes my hair or gives me a back massage while I nod off to sleep. Or that he makes me coffee every morning. Or that if I happen to mention I'd like, say, a grilled cheese sandwich, he'll get up and make it. Or that even though we agreed to trade off weeks to drive Grace to school in the morning, he has taken over the responsibility altogether - and without a word - because he knows I'm not a morning person. Or that he learned to play some of my favorite songs on the guitar.

I decided to count all that. And I think of it today, Valentine's day, while he planning nothing special at all to commemorate it.