You know, as a bit of counterprogramming to the endless champagne/perfume/car/diamond/ mortgage-your-soul-and-your-children’s-future commercials that are out there as a run-up to Valentines Day, I’d like to break my track record of pointedly ignoring St. Valentine and give a little buying advice. Truly, if your hunny bunny doesn’t believe it’s the thought that counts, you need to rethink the bestowal of your affections.
One way to go is, of course, spend a lot of time thinking about the beloves of your beloved, and then find some way to cleverly deliver on their secret wants and desires. I had a friend who, while she and her boyfriend were starving students, was a huge Doors fan. Her fella gave her a box of matches with the note “Come on, baby, light my fire.” Nice, right? Alright, cheesy too. But, cheese is the food of love on Valentine’s. And the matches probably came in handy considering their love of nag champa incense. Sweet, smart and practical. She married that guy.
But, really, it takes a lot of effort to come up with something like that. And no, you can’t just go out and do the same (unless you’re in love with a Doors fan, then rock n roll). My personal advice would be to go out and buy your snookums a big ass bag of Heath Bars. No, they’re not a box of Jacques Torres. Which, while flattering, will set ya back. And the response to a bag of top drawer chockies is, “You understand that I’m a classy individual with refined tastes. I’ll send you an Outlook meeting request for some classy and refined nooky. Tentative for next Tuesday.” The response to a bag of Heaths is, “Heath Bars are a cheap and dirty gift. And you really get my cheap and dirty side. I like that. Let’s go do something salty and sweet, and a little bit crunchy. I’ll meet you in the back seat of the car. Bring the Heath Bars.”
It’s all about the love, my friends. Enjoy.
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