Two holidays that I am not real big on…New Years Eve and Valentine’s Day. You may be saying, “But Hot Mama, you are married and those are the two loviest, mushiest holidays of the year. You of all people should loooooove those holidays!” I don’t. New Years Eve always has all of these expectations around it…expectations that are never, ever lived up to. Here is a quick recap of my last four New Years:
2010: Ate some bad fast food early in the day and spent the entire evening trying not to puke all over the New Years Eve pretzel.
2009: Won’t go into details, but I ended up in a fight with my two best friends…I won’t name names, but they rhyme with Bindmling and Germy. It didn’t end in a fistfight or anything, but I am not giving details because I end up looking bad in the end.
2008: Hot Papa allowed one of his friends to talk him into doing a couple shots of expensive single malt Scotch, on top of the crazy amount of beer and champagne he had already consumed. This resulted in Hot Papa puking all over himself and passing out, fully clothed on top of our bed at about 12:15AM. I spent the rest of the night entertaining HIS friends.
2007: I was about 11 weeks pregnant with Smiley, bleeding profusely (sorry for the graphics). I spent most of the day and night laying on the couch, sobbing. Obviously, everything turned out to be fine, but since my doctor clearly did not want to work on New Years Eve, I had to wait until the next day to go to the hospital to see that everything was ok.
It’s the same thing with Valentine’s Day. You have all of these thoughts on how great, romantic, and sexy it is going to be. You both pick out a cheesy card. He gets an overpriced bouquet of roses. She puts on red, lacy panties. He puts on a tie. You eat at the Melting Pot. You drink champagne. But none of it guarantees a good night. A cheesy card will never say what you REALLY mean (and what you really mean is ‘I love you, but I wish you gave me a blow job more often!’ or ‘I love you, but I hate giving blow jobs!‘). Roses will still make you sneeze if you are allergic. Red panties will only mask the fact that you are on your period. A tie will not stop him from farting in the restaurant. Twenty chocolate covered strawberries do not have less calories when they are shared. Drinking too much champagne will still give you a hangover.
I used to stress over V-Day. I remember being in Middle School and waiting all day to receive a stupid, red carnation from someone…anyone! I made a deal with my best girlfriend that we would each get each other one so that we would not be the only girls not getting one, while the popular cheerleaders were each getting ten. I remember being disappointed when a guy that I was dating did not get me ANYTHING. I hid the gold Figaro bracelet (it was the 90’s people!) that I had bought for him in my purse. I remember the first V-day that Hot Papa and I were living together, before we were married, and he forgot. FORGOT! (Mindbling, I know you remember that day, as I showed up to your house, proceeded to drink your booze, forced your son to steal a rose out of your bouquet for me, and sobbed for 3 hours. Sigh. The good old days) I was devastated. From that moment on, I promised myself that I was not going to get my red lacies in a bunch over a Hallmark created holiday. I don’t need a holiday to know that Hot Papa loves me. I already know that. I don’t need a holiday to know that Hot Papa is forgetful. I already know that, too. I don’t need a holiday to eat too many calories, drink too much champagne, or wear lacy panties. I already eat too many calories, drink too many glasses of champagne, and I sell lingerie for chissake…I have an infinite amount of lacy panties at my disposal. I can put them on whenever I want, and at an appropriate time to my monthly cycle.
Do I hate the day? Not really. Will Hot Papa and I still go thru all the V-Day motions? Probably. Will I still get the post V-day champagne and chocolate induced hangover? Of course. Do I expect Hot Papa to sweep me off my feet, onto a white horse, all the while whispering sweet nothings into my ear while we ride off into the sunset? Hell-to-the-no!! He is still Hot Papa, no matter what the day. But he is the man that love…who makes me laugh, fixes my coffee every morning, does the dishes after dinner, says blessings with our kids every night, sticks up for me when he knows I am wrong, surprises me with scratch off tickets when I am having a bad day, and watches chick flicks with me. I wish I could go back and tell middle school me this. Maybe I would have spent a little less time worrying about carnations and a little more time worrying about math. I do have but one plea for Valentine’s Day this year…Hot Papa, if you are reading this can you please, PLEASE refrain from farting at the restaurant? Please? Thanks.
Much Love to all…I hope your Valentine’s Day is all that you dream it to be!