Valentines, schmalentines

Ah, Valentines Day. The day where you can spend hundreds of dollars on your significant other and still have just an average chance of scoring by the end of the night. Average chance, you say? I like those odds!

Believe it or not, I'm usually pretty prepared when it comes to Valentines Day. Depending on my financial situation, I've either got the "expensive but nice" or "cheap but thoughtful" Valentines gift purchased at least a week ahead, dinner plans mapped out flawlessly, and my personal grooming is of an unusually-high standard. Yes, when it comes to Valentines Day, I usually kick ass.

Of course, because I pointed this out, you all know where this story is headed.

Monday morning rolls around, and I'm like, "Oh, is it really Valentines Day already. Hmph..."

5 minutes later, it starts to sink in.

"...oh shit."

Don't ask me why, but this year Valentines Day didn't really seem to mean anything until it was actually Valentines Day. I've been with Mrs. Humble for like 7 years, and I've never half-assed a Valentines Day with her once. I've always gone all-out to make her feel as loved and needed as I can, and I'm sure that this 1 day of compassion is why she puts up with my shit for the other 364 days of the year.

So my mission is clear: Pull some serious Valentines miracle out of my ass, or my marriage is over.

After work, I burn down to the mall to pick out a particular brand of perfume that Mrs. Humble tried a sample of a few weeks ago. Sure enough, there were dozens of guys on similar missions as myself. I hate living up to the stereotype of the husband who buys stuff at the last minute, but I'm surrounded by these stereotypes, so I don't feel so bad anymore. I shuffle past a poor bastard who's standing in the middle of the aisle, turning around in slow circles. He's staring at the signs hanging from the roof, and it's obvious has no clue what he's even looking for. Sorry buddy, but I'm predicting a Mission: Failure by the end of the night for you.

I get to the perfume counters, but since there are like 20 of them, I can't find the perfume right away. One of the sales ladies comes up to me to help me out.

Sales Lady: Doing some last minute Valentines shopping?
Mr Humble Guy : (annoyed) ... no, I'm just trying to get ahead of the game for next year

She doesn't think I'm very funny.

Anyway, we get down to business and find the perfume I'm looking for. It's conveniently Valentines Day priced at $An Arm for a small bottle and $A Leg for the big bottle. Well, that's what I get for being an ass and forgetting Valentines Day, I guess. You can just call me Stumpy from now on.

So I haul ass home as fast as I can in order to give myself enough time to prepare something romantic. Of course, I run into my next problem: what am I going to make for supper? I look in the fridge, and since we haven't gone shopping in weeks, the only thing there is milk. Great, now we can have cereal. I'm sure Harlequin romance novels are just filled with lines like, "The candlelight painted his face in a warm glow as Renaldo ate his Count Chocula."

I grab the last two chicken breasts out of the freezer, pop them in a ziploc bag, and dunk them in a pot of hot water to thaw out. I haven't figured out what to do with them, but I have a few minutes while they're thawing, so I'm sure I can think of something...

Eventually...

Hopefully?...

Shit, I've got nothing.

I check the chicken after a few minutes, but it still needs a bit longer to thaw. I'm still thinking about what to make when I come across my next problem: I look like ass. Seriously, I haven't shaved in almost a week. Dammit. Normally I like to take my time when I'm shaving, but I have no time to begin with, so I decide to shave like they do on the razor commercials. You know, the really long, fast strokes across the face? That'll save me some time!

So now I've got to get the bleeding to stop...

I've seriously cut myself in like 15 different places trying to shave quickly, and I haven't even stopped all the bleeding when I hear Mrs Humble open the front door. So much for my romantic surprise. I'm very disappointed in myself...and somewhat faint from loss of blood.

Surpisingly, everything ended up well. I got cleaned up, made some kind of Mexican Salsa Chicken Pasta Whatchamahaveyou, and gave her the gift which the store so kindly wrapped for me. She loves it, even though she had to act surprised. Seems that asking her:

1. what the perfume was called
2. who makes it, and
3. where do I buy it

all on Valentines Day is not a good way of surprising her with said perfume. Oh well. She's happy enough, so my marriage is hopefully safe for another year. Mission: Somewhat Accomplished.