Funny Valentine
With V-Day falling on a Sunday and neither of us in need of any physical gifts Zac and I decided we’d celebrate just a bit differently this year. No gifts would be bought (with a special clause that defines flowers as a gesture, not a gift) and we’d have two “dates.”
I use the ” ” because we often consider staying home and doing something slight out of the ordinary as a “date.” Like, lets make tacos and if we also make our own salsa and margaritas and declare it a Fiesta! then it’s a date, damnit.
Our grandchildren will make fun of us for this, and we’ll just tell them we are a product of the Great Recession. We have HDTV but no landline, we don’t dine out without coupons, we always think we’re on the verge of being fired, and we go on “dates” at home.
Anyway! Back to where we were. Zac was planning a Saturday night date and I was planning a Sunday date. We started with the food portion of the dates, because our lives our ruled by our love of food. Not to imply we are foodies or anything. We just like to eat. It’s different.
Anyway! I start planning a Sunday Brunch at home. (This is the reason I felt the need to launch into my at-home-dating lecture.) We don’t really eat breakfast together unless it’s the weekend and even then it usually involves Oreos and the sofa. So I thought a Sunday Brunch Mini-Buffet would be fun! Worry not – I have no intentions of making anything heart-shaped. Then I set about picking out foods for my buffet and realized this was a decidedly girly thing to do.
Good morning honey! I’ve made you assorted light, fluffy french pastries and a lovely Quiche!
Hmm. Not a manly man’s Valentine’s Day.
But I really want to eat the light, fluffy french pastries. So I committed to the buffet and figured I could throw in something meaty and get away with it.
So I say to Zac: “I don’t know what you have planned for the Saturday night date, but I’m worried the Sunday date is a little on the girly side. I feel selfish about it but I’m not changing it either!”
Zac: “How girly is a little on the girly side?”
Me: “It’s…like…French-Crepe girly.”
Zac: “That’s cool. I’m taking you out for pizza and craft beer on Saturday anyway.”
Well then.
He’s taking me out for an undoubtedly boisterous night of pizza and over-priced dark beers and I’m making him French Crepes with just the lightest dusting of powdered sugar.
Marriage, meet Self-Serving Assholes. Self-Serving Assholes, welcome to Marriage.
Oh well, at least we’re equals in our self-gratifying union.
Hope I’m not too hungover from all the beer to make the crepes.
* Zac just came home from work and proofread this post. He noted I had announced I would be “Trough-ing in a meaty dish” rather than “throwing” in a meaty dish. I’d like to extend my personal thanks to the 89 people who have read this blog post for pretending that you don’t notice my spelling and grammatical errors. I hope they bring some joy. I trough them in there just for you.