Married . WithOUT Children |

Married . WithOUT Children

“Every kiss begins with KAY!” I sang loudly along with the TV commercial, hoping husband-head would look over and take notice.

But husband-head was too engrossed in the sports section he was reading to pay any attention.

“Every KISS begins with KAY!” I tried again at a louder decibel.

“Who the heck is Kay and why do you want to kiss her?” he finally answered without looking up, his face still buried in the newspaper.

OK, so maybe he wasn’t familiar with the jewelry store slogan. I tried something a little more obvious.

“Diamonds are a girl’s BEST FRIEND!” I chortled, hoping he’d catch on.

Husband-head finally put down the paper.

“You can knock it off now with the blatant hints,” he sighed. “I’m well aware that Valentine’s Day is coming.”

Then he lowered his voice.

“BUT, I’ll have you know, I saw on a news program that diamonds are a bad investment right now,” he confided, as if sharing some secret insider trading information.

Nice try, buddy.

“Not in my book,” I protested. “You can never be too rich, too thin or have too many diamonds. .”

Husband-head went back to reading his paper while I pouted.

“Well, I heard that 86 percent of men don’t plan ahead for Valentine’s Day OR give appropriate gifts,” I reported. “You don’t want to be part of that statistic, do you?”

“That sounds about right,” husband-head agreed. “Why should we? Valentine’s Day is just a big marketing holiday for Hallmark, anyway . and to get guys in trouble. .”

I decided to try a different tactic.

“You don’t love me anymore,” I said in a pitiful voice, hoping to guilt him into getting me a sparkling gift.

“I do, TOO,” husband-head said with exasperation. “Now would you STOP it? Don’t worry, I’ll remember Valentine’s Day. . I’ll get you a card . and some power tools . like I do every year. .”

Hardware is a girl’s best friend!

“But I want CARATS!” I whined, stomping my foot like a spoiled child.

“OK, OK, I’ll get you carrots,” husband-head looked up and assured me, “and some celery . and some onions. .”

He looked pleased with himself and went back to his paper.

“Will you at least take me out to dinner?” I suggested hopefully.

“I’ll take you out, alright, if you don’t let me finish reading this article,” he threatened through clenched teeth. “Why do we need to go out to eat, anyway? I like what you cook just fine.”

That’s NOT the point, Romeo. .

When he was done with the paper, he folded it up and gazed at me with a look of wonderment.

“You know, you’re very high maintenance,” he informed me. “And besides, what’s the big deal about Valentine’s Day and why is it all about YOU? What are you going to do for ME?”

I hadn’t given it much thought.

“I do stuff for you all year long,” I pointed out. “I cook, I clean the house, I do the laundry. .”

“. and I go to work and hand over my paycheck. .” husband-head interrupted.

We were at a Valentine’s Day standoff.

“Look, why don’t I get you a box of chocolates and a little sexy something from Victoria’s Secret?” he suggested, trying to offer up a compromising solution.

If I eat a box of chocolates, honey, you are NOT going to be seeing me prance around in some Victoria’s Secret lingerie, I thought to myself.

“And in return,” he continued with a wink. “You can let ME kiss Kay. .”

New Castle Heidi Rice’s column appears every Friday in the Post Independent. Visit her Web site at

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