Valentine's Day

My husband has never done very well on Valentine’s Day. For example, last year, while we were still engaged, guess what I got? You are correct! Nothing. And by nothing, I mean not one thing. Like the I-kept-opening-my-door-sadly-looking-for-flowers kind of nothing. So this year, I began the conversation early:

Me: Do I need to make a list of what you should get me for Valentine's Day?
Husband: When is it?
Me: February 14.
Husband: ...But what year though?

I knew I wasn’t getting anywhere at this point. But the next day, I told him what I wanted. I want flowers and those chocolate fruit things from Edible Arrangements and a card and dinner. Yes, all of those things.

Valentine’s Day this year was on a Tuesday, so when I got home from a very very long day on Monday evening, there were breathtakingly beautiful roses sitting on the counter. I gave him a big hug. I was so happy. And the fact that the roses were in a glass pitcher that's usually filled with cran-apple juice didn’t even matter—I kind of liked it (if you look closely at the picture, you can see the handle). Later, after rolling off the couch, I went upstairs and…wait for it…there were more roses on the dresser in our bedroom! Truth be told, at the time, I didn’t care if I got anything else. On his least favorite holiday, he showered his wife with roses.

For Valentine’s Day, I decided to make dinner instead of forcing him to take me out. When he arrived home from work on Tuesday with my Edible Arrangements in tow, I opened the door to greet him, wearing a hot red dress and some heels. The table was set for dinner and I told him to go upstairs and put on a tie. He obliged (see picture) and I laughed my way through dinner at his failed attempt to appease me. Apparently my dress wasn't enough to get him to put on a suit or even a dress shirt. It is my hope that the tie/horizontal stripe polo combo will never make an appearance again.

Finally, after dinner and my chocolate covered fruit, I said, “So where’s my card?” He responded, “Huh? What’s that?”

He gets an ‘A.’ Good job, Babe.