Yesterday, as I’m sure most of you know, was Valentine’s Day. Single people out there who don’t have admirers, or even those who do have admirers, but they are too much of a wimp or too lazy to think that you might appreciate a card, or gift, might envy those of us who are in relationships and happy and in love and all that sickly gooey stuff. Well, to those single people who did not receive a heart-covered card tucked into a shiny red envelope, or didn’t receive those velvet covered heart-shaped boxes of chocolates (one of which I am so going to treat myself to when they go into the M&S staff waste sale, mark my words!), or didn’t receive any acknowledgement from anyone that it was Valentine’s Day, envy no more, because neither did I.
About a week ago, Alex and I decided that we wouldn’t bother doing anything for Valentine’s Day this year. Yes, we were both in agreement, and I was at work on the night anyway, which meant we would hardly see each other all day, apart from first thing in the morning, a quick minute as I bundle the kids into the car at tea-time, and then late at night when I get home from work, so we wouldn’t have had time to “do anything” even if we had wanted to.
Well, that was all well and good, and it was a relief too in a way as we were feeling the pinch on the pennies a little.
However, I decided I would write him a poem and leave it out on the table for him to read in the morning over his muesli.
Just before he left for work, I got up and came downstairs as I realised he hadn’t even given me a goodbye kiss, which normally I wouldn’t even think about, but this was the day of love, apparently.
There he was scribbling on a piece of paper so fast there was almost visible steam coming off it. He chuckled slightly and handed me his effort at a response to my well structured, thought out, piece of poetry. I was not amused in the slightest, actually, that’s a bit of a fib. I found it hilarious, but I pretended to be annoyed, and secretly hoped that he’d have a surprise dinner waiting for me when I got in from work, with candles and champagne and chocolates and treats. Nope. Nothing.
So, the poem he’d written. This is that poem:
“I love you, I love you
Even though you have big hips
I love you, I love you
Especially your t*ts”
Haha! So romantic!
