Valentine dreams and mistaken acronyms
“Do you want some of those `FDS’ flowers for Valentine’s Day?” husband-head asked me the other evening. “I don’t know what they are, but I keep seeing advertisements for them…”
I looked over at him, trying not to laugh.
“That’s very sweet, honey,” I said with a chuckle. “Except that `FDS’ is a brand of feminine deodorant spray. I think you mean `FTD’ – it’s a floral service that sends flowers all over the world.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “FDS, FTD…I’m sure they all smell the same.”
But husband-head, like many men, is faced each year with the task of trying to come up with a Valentine’s Day gesture to prove his undying love and affection and, essentially, keep himself out of the dog house …
“Okay then, how about some power tools or tickets to a hockey game?” he tried again.
I shot him the “don’t-you-DARE” look…
“You mean you don’t want to go out to a romantic candlelight dinner and gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes while listening to some has-been lounge singer croon `Feelings’?” I suggested.
Husband-head made a gesture that included putting his forefinger partially down his throat…
“Well then, what’s YOUR idea of the perfect Valentine’s Day activity?” I challenged.
He thought for a moment.
“Well first, we would go down to the bar and meet my buddies to drink some beer and shoot a couple games of pool,” he began.
This was going to be romantic…
“Then we would come home where you would make my favorite dinner of Hungry-Man salisbury steak and mashed potatoes,” he continued. “We’d eat on the couch and watch a shoot-em-up movie and for once you would let me turn the volume up real loud to get the full sound effects…”
Husband-head was beginning to drool.
“Later, you would put on some frilly lingerie and dance around while I read a four-wheel-drive magazine in bed,” he went on.
“You mean I’D be dancing around the room while you were READING?” I asked, incredulous.
“Well yeah,” he nodded. “Don’t worry, I’d look up now and then. But if you REALLY wanted to get my attention, you could even get a couple of your girlfriends to come over and dance with you – it would be like my own personal harem…”
I wiped his chin and put my hand to his forehead to check for a fever…
“And when does Jillian Barberie factor into the picture?” I asked, now playing along with his twisted Valentine’s Day fantasy.
“YES! The NFL WEATHER BABE!” he yelled gleefully. “What a great idea!”
I went to go get a cold cloth for his head.
“Uh honey, I don’t think any of that is going to happen,” I whispered, trying to break it to him gently.
“Well you ASKED and I told you,” he said defensively.
And while the dancing harem thing wasn’t my idea of an appropriate Valentine’s Day activity at all, I did think it would be nice to do something different that husband-head would appreciate.
“Hey! Why don’t we get some of that STD stuff and change the oil in your truck?” I suggested, not really knowing what I was talking about.
Husband-head’s eyes got real big.
“I don’t think you want to get any STD,” he advised, this time his turn to chuckle at my mistake. “I think you mean STP oil, not STD…”
“Whatever,” I shrugged. “I’m sure they all do the same thing…”
FTD, FDS, STD, STP…who can keep it all straight?
Then I thought of a compromise.
“Look, I’ll make you a deal. For Valentine’s Day, you don’t give me an FDS and I won’t give you an STD…”
New Castle resident Heidi Rice’s column appears every Friday in the Post Independent.
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