I promise not to get you anything for Valentine’s Day (as we discussed). I also promise not to be disappointed when you don’t get me anything for Valentine’s Day.
Seriously. This is what we agreed to. Do not let advertising and mass media and friends’ Facebook posts manipulate you into thinking that because I have a vagina I also have an irresistible longing to receive things for Valentine’s Day. I assure you that I do not.
Still, I promise not to be angry if you can’t resist getting me something for Valentine’s Day because you are worried that, despite all I’ve said, I’ll be angry if you do not. I won’t be angry even if the thing you get me is an overpriced card or overly cute trinket hastily picked up at a drugstore on your way home that I will never be able to throw away because “he gave this to me for Valentine’s Day” even though I will forever resent the clutter and how it symbolizes your betrayal of our agreement not to get each other things for Valentine’s Day.
I also promise not to get you something just because I’m worried that you might be getting me something and I don’t want to look like an asshole. (Even though that one year you got me a card and I didn’t get you anything and I felt like an asshole, so the next year I got you a card but you didn’t get me anything that year and I felt like an asshole for inadvertantly making you feel like an asshole for not getting me anything when I got you something.)
This is why we have to have these discussions.
This is why I hate Valentine’s Day.
But I love you, and that’s what matters, right? (But please don’t get me anything.)
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Kim Z. Dale 