By Neal Wooten
It’s my favorite holiday – the day after Valentine’s Day – when all those glorious chocolate hearts, chocolate fudge, chocolate trucks, chocolate spoons, chocolate roses, chocolate-covered nuts, and chocolate-covered cherries will be half off.
The first 40 years of my life, I was single, so Valentine’s Day was just another day. And for some reason, I rarely had a girlfriend on this day. Looking back on it now, that could have been on purpose. It just seems too commercial to me, another marketing ploy to get people to spend money on items deemed important to society.
Maybe that explains why I was so horrible at it when I was married. For ten years, my ex complained about my gifts to her on this day, especially that one year, which lives forever in the annals of blotched Valentine’s lore. Maggie couldn’t ride a bicycle. I guess if you never learned as a kid, it’s harder to learn as an adult. I thought I had come up with the perfect, and dare I say romantic, gift.
When she woke and walked into the living room, there it was with a big red bow on it. It was a brand-new, top-of-the-line tandem bicycle. Seriously, it cost almost a thousand bucks. There was an incredible bike path that went all around Milwaukee and came within three blocks of our house. Husband and wife spending time biking together seemed like a yuppie thing to do, and she was yuppie to the core.
She hated it and was quite angry. She called her niece in Chicago to tell her about the horrendous gift. Her niece called me, and I had to endure the “How could you?” conversation. She explained that Maggie had expected a Pandora charm bracelet. Apparently, she had been dropping clues for months. Let me explain something to you younger gals. Men don’t see clues. It’s not in their DNA. Just write exactly what you want on a sheet of paper and tape it to the bathroom wall across from the commode.
So, I left the bike in the living room and drove to the mall. I still remember what the sales lady at the jewelry store said after seeing my reaction. “There are cheaper versions of charm bracelets at other places.” That would be risking Armageddon. I forked over another thousand bucks for the bracelet and several charms. It calmed the storm, but she never let me forget that Valentine’s Day.
Now, whenever I see all the ads about Valentine’s Day, I just think about the day after. I’ll buy myself one of those big boxes of assorted chocolates, wipe a tear from my eye, and think. “I really love me.”
