Valentine's Day kvetchfest

Let's see: Let's have a holiday where we can automatically raise a woman's expectations to toxic levels, so that any man who cares one iota about her had better get her a diamond, a bunch of flowers, or a piece of chocolate...or ELSE! Haha.

Come on, people! Out of the 365 days of the year, there's just gotta be an official "obligation" day?

Just what the world needs. Women in offices everywhere, engaging in the subtle but telling 'mate comparison.'
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WANDA: Oh, Tess, those are really gorgeous flowers. Did Bill send them to you?
TESS: Oh yes, that Bill! Always has to show he cares. And what did Egbert do for YOU?
WANDA: Oh, he always does the same thing; it so predictable, ha ha ha. He gave me ANOTHER diamond tennis bracelet this year, and tickets to the opera. Really, I always tell him he shouldn't go to such extravagance, but he never listens. I guess he just loves me too much.
TESS: Well, you are certainly lucky! I wish Bill loved me that much. *looks unhappy, looks around the office at the other women typing busily.*
Hello, June! You got THREE vases of flowers? How nice! Did you get them from John?
JUNE: Yes. He sent me the pink carnations you see here. I only wish that was all, but he had to go and buy me a small country to prove his love! It's all so unnecessary. I had a threesome last night with Bill and Egbert, anyway. Those other two bouquets are from them.

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Let's see, how should I put this?

I guess...this way. If February 14th were to be used as an instrument to show one's love, I would much prefer this to the requisite candy and chocolates:

"Hey, let's go down to Casino and get shitty drunk and look out the window laughing at all the carnations and pink shirts these sniveling idiots are forced to wear because if they don't their bleached, tanned, Hello Kittied, 'enhanced' girlfriends will deny them sex for an undetermined amount of time."

OR:

"Here's a coupon book I made for you, honey.
Page one: "One order of Casino wings, on me, once a week for a month."
Page two: "Good for one night of whiskey and cokes until your head falls off."
Page three: "Need some muscle to help with your Valiant? Done."
Page four: "Good for one night of humoring your ridiculous ideas without making you feel like a schmuck."
Page five: "Good for hot monkey sex, unlimited, starting now."

You can see where this is headed. Of course, any guy, after having read this blog, will probably *dream* of getting off easy with a dozen posies and a box of chocolates. Or set off in search of a woman who isn't so demanding. Hehehe....

Ahhhh, women. So damned complex sometimes.