How I know I’ve been with The Ass the exact right amount of time


If I’m counting right, yesterday was my twenty-third Valentine’s Day with my husband. He’s taken me through all the phases:

  • We’re going to dress up, and I’ll give you wildly over-priced roses, and take you to the fanciest restaurant we’ve ever heard of, one that actually takes reservations, and stare at each other all through dinner.
  • I’m completely broke, but I’m going to make up for it by spending a huge amount of time and creative energy making Valentine’s Day special for you. And we’ll stare at each other all through dinner.
  • We’ve got money, so I’m going to take you out for an insanely expensive dinner and try to act like we don’t just do this on special occasions. And I’ll stare at you all through dinner.
  • Eh, we go out enough. And we’re tired. And babysitters are expensive. Will you cook for me? I’ll buy you something pretty! I’ll even talk to you during dinner.
  • And at long last, we’ve settled into: What’s for dinner? Oh, and let’s try not to yell at the kids during dinner.

This isn’t a bad thing. I’ve never been a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. Too much pressure. Too commercial (and if I’m saying that something is too commercial, me, the marketer’s wet dream, then it just is).

I spent all of two minutes planning something for The Ass this year: I told the kids I would pay them a dollar if they took Daddy’s coat and bag as soon as he walked through the door, and waited on him hand-and-foot for the rest of the evening. Which made me look really good, without me actually having to do anything.

Throughout all of the phases, whether there was jewelry, or a fancy dinner, or even a trip (yup, a trip to Vegas one year), my husband has been very consistent about getting me a card on Valentine’s Day. And after all these years, I’m sure it’s hard to think of something original to say. But he manages, every time.

This year’s was perfect: after a message that I won’t share with you (because I’m sure he’s already aggravated that I’m sharing this much), he wrote:

And you shouldn’t feel bad for not getting me a card. (Man, we know each other too well.)

After reading it, and laughing, I asked him what he would’ve done if I’d had a card for him.

He said he would’ve died of shock.

He knows me exactly well enough.

Originally posted on Selfish Mom. All opinions expressed on this website come straight from Amy unless otherwise noted. This post has a Compensation Level of 0. Please visit Amy’s Full Disclosure page for more information.


  1. says

    All I really wanted for V-Day was a little bit of attention. What I got was a plus-sized robe (DietBet notwithstanding, I am not actually plus-sized) that my husband grabbed at the grocery store on his way to fill up the car with gas. Which he presented to me (straight from the grocery bag) with the following announcement: “I had to look all over [the grocery store] for something that wasn’t sexy!”

    Your day sounds better. Maybe next year I’ll try bribing the kids to improve their level of service!

  2. Cara Robinson says

    I’m not a fan of valentines day either….kind of a stupid made up holiday just to get people to spend money. I suppose if you do something nice for each other that does not involve spending a lot of money that’s a good thing but why do we need a special day for that?

  3. Amybeth says

    T can’t stand VDay – we get each other a card, maybe a candy bar but that’s pushing it.

    I thought you’d appreciate this…
    This year, I came out to the livingroom for coffee and there was a big Homer Simpson doll in a chef’s jacket and hat. His tshirt says “Hail to the Chef” and he sings Disco Inferno when you press his hand.

    Now, I did say no more silly Simpsons knick knacks unless they have a utilitarian purpose, but it really is too damn cute. :)

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