Pack up your blood-bank skanks and courvoisier, Leon Phelps. There's a new ladies man in town.
Like most dudes, the husband was stressed about the demands of a highly romantic holiday. Back when we were friends, he would message me on Valentine's Day to tell me how much he hated the unrealistic expectations of a "manufactured, commercial holiday." But now he's married, and his wife loves National Buy Your Woman Candy Day. Plus, I found that mix tape he made for the old girlfriend.
Earlier this week, sweat popping out on his brow, he eventually confided that he had no idea what to get me. He began to suggest some nice, expensive gifts.
"Honey," I said, "You're overthinking it. I want something simple -- something from the heart."
Yeah, I know. I only added more pressure (once again: I found that mix tape). But the good news is that he listened. I love it when men listen. It must be how astronomers feel during those 100-year meteor shower events.
Friends, this is what I discovered on my kitchen counter first thing this morning: A handmade Valentine's Day book. It's perfection. Sweet, smart and funny, it embodies the very traits that drew me to its creator.
|Confession: I have this photo framed on my desk.|
|Twang? Me? Y'all surely don't believe that?|
|My favorite lingerie is a thick fleece purple robe. Shut up. You're just jealous.|
|Yes, that's me with a gun. A Republican married a Democrat in an election year. I had to concede something.|
|Not that he needs them at this point, but big-time bonus points for the UP ending|
It might be a manufactured, commercial holiday, but my Valentine did it exactly right. I'm reminded today that I am lucky.
And someone's about to get that way...