The day that you're supposed to tell the one you love how much you love them. The day you're supposed to buy them chocolates, flowers & cards. The day you're supposed to take them out for a meal, and maybe a trip to the theatre, or cinema, and generally pamper your nearest & dearest.
It's not that the much beloved and long suffering Mrs B doesn't warrant or deserve such pampering. Because she truly does. I am what you might call a high maintenance husband. Of the two children we have, I am the third, most needy. And the one who is definitely a special needs case. And the following story will probably demonstrate this fact beautifully.
One previous Valentines day, whilst on my way home from work, I suddenly remember the date. Realizing that going home empty handed was not really a serious option, I stopped off at the only shop I could find.
A petrol filling station.
I was in the middle of nowhere, and I was desperate. The shop was very small. And pretty poorly stocked. First off, I went to the greetings cards.
All they had were three Christmas and one Get Well Soon card. Not good. Not good at all. There were no flowers at all.
At this point, I needed the loo and as I sat down, I contemplated my predicament. Yet again, I was in trouble. Owing to my lack of planning, I was in danger of going home to a pretty upset Mrs B.
I needed a plan. And some inspiration. I noticed the air freshener aerosol on the floor. I picked it up and gave it a spray.
"Well, it smells of flowers" I said to myself. I put the can in my jacket pocket, and returned to the shop.
"OK, they're bound to have some chocolates". They did. Smarties. In mild desperation, I grabbed a couple of tubes.
I then spotted a DVD selection. I made a beeline for it. It wasn't what you might call vast. The best they had was The Tweenies. And some very dodgy 'Oscar' contender, that had pictures of nearly naked women on the cover. And eels. I decide against the DVD.
"I know, I'll make her dinner".
My idea of a romantic dinner for two however, was somewhat thwarted by the lack of selection of food on offer. A pasty. And a tin of peaches. In syrup.
I gather my bounty, throw it into a basket, and make my way to the counter.
I am by now a desperate man. Which may explain my next 'brainwave'. The very sad thing is I honestly believe it's a stroke of genius. And my thinking behind it just beggars belief.
"What hardworking woman, mother and wife doesn't want something that is going to make her life a little bit easier?" I remember thinking.
What I had in mind went way beyond that. This will actually REMOVE one job from her endless list of chores entirely!
As I put my
"Anything else?"
A wide grin appears across my face.
"A deluxe car wash please".
WOW!
Pure bloody inspired genius.
What could possibly spell romance, 'I love you, and I want to make life a bit easier for you' more than a pre wash, hot foam, wheel scrub, triple wax and blow dry car wash! With under body chassis wash too.
UNDER BODY CHASSIS WASH!!!!!!!
I pay and run to the car. As I pull away, I realise I have forgotten something. Candles. But it's OK. I remember that we have some birthday candles at home.
I arrive home to an empty house. Perfect. I can have everything ready for when Mrs B gets in.
But First, a little forward planning. I rush upstairs, dig out my bestest pulling pants, and put them on.
A male thong is not the most comfortable thing to wear, but hey, Mrs B is worth it. And when she sees the efforts that I've gone too, to woe her, the old bed springs will be putting in some overtime for sure!
I rush back downstairs, and into the kitchen to prepare the meal.
I pour some of the Smarties into a saucer, and scatter the rest around the table for artistic effect. I open the tin of peaches, and pour them into 2 pudding bowls. I remember that we have a tin of evaporated milk in the cupboard. I open this and pour some over the peaches.
With some effort, I eventually find the birthday cake candles. I struggle to get them to stand up on their own. I have another brainwave. I grab a couple of slices of bread, and put the in the middle of the table, one on top of the other. I poke the candles into the bread in the shape of a heart.
I remove the packaging from the pasty and put it into the microwave, ready to start when Mrs B gets home. At that moment, I hear the keys in the door.
"Don't come in the kitchen honey, I have a little surprise for you". I say.
"Oooookaaaaaay" she calls back, with more than a hint of caution in her voice.
Not to be put off by her well placed and well practiced caution, I hit the nuke button on the microwave. I light the candles.
I then remember the half can of air freshener that I 'borrowed' in my jacket. I grab this and give the whole room a good spray.
This is when I discover that the warning on the side of all aerosol cans to 'keep away from naked flames' is there for a reason.
I am now holding in my hands a Glade flame thrower. And a pretty damn good one at that!
I quickly release the button on the can.
Not quite quick enough.
Border Collies are not bred for speed. But you try telling that to mine when his tail is on fire. He charges around the kitchen with an impressive turn of speed.**
I somehow manage to corner him, pick him up and douse his tail under the tap. I inspect the damage. Fortunately, apart from some singed fur, we've got away with it. No skin damage to speak of. But by now, the kitchen smells less of the potpourri, and more of burnt collie fur than was originally intended.
And on hearing the commotion, Mrs B's suspicions are aroused.
"Is everything OK in there?"
"Fine babe, absolutely fine". "I'm just putting the finishing touches to your suprise".
I go through a mental check list in my head.
Peaches. Smarties. Pasty. Candles. Wine.
Sod it! I forgot the wine!
I rummage around in the fridge. All I find is one can of lager. I get the champagne flutes out, crack open the lager, and am about to pour, and stop. I put down the champagne flute and lager, and grab the tea towel that's draped over the cooker, drying off. I carefully fold it, and drape it over my left forearm.
I pick up the lager and champagne flute, and stand poised, ready to pour.
"OK honey, come and see your surprise"
As she walks into the kitchen smiling, I begin to pour the lager into the champagne flute.
Mrs B surveys the scene. The birthday candles poked into the bread. The pudding bowls filled with peaches and evaporated milk. The Smarties scattered all over the table and in the saucer.
Then she looks at me. Her idiot husband. Is he really pouring lager into a champagne flute? With a used tea towel draped over his arm? And a big stupid grin on his face?
And my god! What is that awful smell? PLEASE don't say that's dinner!
The smile on Mrs B's face fades away. And is replaced by a look of utter bewilderment.
At that moment the microwave pings.
I put down the Champagne flute and lager, open the microwave door, and grab the pasty. Which is like grabbing a piece of hot coal. I throw it onto a plate and blow my fingers to cool them off. I grab a knife from the drawer and cut the pasty into two. I seperate the two halves, and stand back to admire my efforts.
"Mmmm, something not quite right".
A further flash of inspiration. I grab two candles from the bread, and pokw one into each pasty, spilling melted wax onto one half.
"Don't worry, I'll have that one" I say cheerily.
Mrs B just stands there, open mouthed, staring at the 'romantic' scene before her. She slowly walks forwards feeling for a chair with her hand, and on finding it she sits down.
"I've made us a nice romantic dinner so you don't have to cook tonight".
"I thought we could have this, and have an early night".
Mrs B continues to sit in stunned silence. Obviously so impressed with my 'efforts' that she's lost for words.
The sex I'm gonna get tonight after this, is gonna be mind blowing!
"Oh, and there's more", I say, pointing a finger in the air.
"Mmmmmmmore?" she stammers. Her head turns to look at me questioningly.
I fumble around in my pocket.
"I've also got you a car wash token, so you won't have to wash the car this weekend".
I place the token in front of her on the table.
"The deluxe wash" I announce. "With under body chassis wash".
Her gaze shifts to the token and then back to me. Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out.
I start to realise that she may not be quite as appreciative as I first hoped.
I begin to babble.
"I'm sorry honey, but by the time I remembered what day it was, it was too late". "I tried everywhere to get you something special, but everything was sold out". "I just grabbed what I could, and did the best I could with it".
Still silence.
"I'm really sorry babe". Just give me a big hug and let's eat shall we?" "I'm starving".
I stretch my arms out towards her.
Mrs B gets up and turns towards me.
I don't see her pick up the car wash token.
But I feel it.
I feel it when she attempts to insert it in a place that just doesn't accept car wash tokens. She didn't even try to move the thong string aside when she did it.
As I run around the kitchen, being chased by a snarling, screaming Mrs B, closely followed by a vengeful looking border collie, I wonder at how Mrs B managed to shove the car wash token so far up.
Or indeed, how I'm going to perform an under body chassis wash!
**Please note - No border collies were actually harmed during the writing, or indeed the living of this scene.
And yes, my butt is almost completely healed now. Thanks for asking.
P.T.F.O.
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