Boys Will Be Boys…

Men. Utterly predictable.

You find them clustered, a coven of confused characters, all crowding the card aisle. Perplexed by the sheer volume of Valentine cards on display, they ultimately pick out the most expensive, the most garish, the most trite and syrupy greeting they could find. “Hell, it cost $6.99. It must be good!”

That episode took place at Wal-Mart. And just across the street, at the Stop & Shop supermarket, another bevy of befuddled men huddled near the flower department, eyeing preposterously priced bouquets of red roses past their prime. With petals in full bloom, they were sure to fall off in a matter of days. The men queued, and pondered their selection, and vied for flowers that would simply not last. “But it cost me $29.99 for a dozen roses. They must be good!”

I, however, was not one of those men. Okay, granted, not all men are so clueless when it comes to Valentine’s, or any other celebratory occasion. But you have to admit, it is quite comical to watch these hapless chaps, hemming and hawing, scratching their noggins on whether to buy this wilted bouquet here or that equally dying bunch of roses over there.

For My Beloved

For My Beloved

Me? What did I do for my Beloved on Valentine’s? I usually make a homemade card, but this year I found a lovely card at Trader Joes’, for a paltry 99 cents. It had a nice message inside. But  I made it better by writing a poem for my enchantress.  I festooned the envelope with a multitude of hearts. I made a rose out of pink poster board, a stem of holly, and reconfigured the holly leaves with a glue gun to achieve the desired result.

I took a picture of the whole ensemble, as evidenced by the photo above, replete with candle and chocolates. Then I sent it as an attachment to my lovely wife. When she opened her email and saw the photo, I beckoned her to the kitchen and there, waiting for her,  was the exact set-up.

All in all it was fun making the rose and writing a poem and putting it all together. Doing something original. Not bad for all of ninety-nine cents. The rose and the poem will last indefinitely, and I didn’t have to jostle hordes of harried, huffing men for outrageously priced sentiments.

And what did you do for your Beloved on this day of love and romance and chocolate?


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