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You hate shopping for Rose. The snarky broad sees any genuine attempt at being nice as some sort of passive-aggressive challenge, and although you’ll never admit it, you just want to be able to give her something without layering it in irony and snark and playing along with her head games. Maybe, just maybe, you want to give her some fucking chocolate and roses for Valentine’s Day and not be treated to her psychoanalysis of your male privilege and a rant on gender roles in Hallmark Holidays (TM).
Maybe you just wanna fucking ask her out on a date and be a little closer than friends. Is that so wrong?
Staring at the wall of sappy romantic greeting cards is hurting your head. You could go way over the top and get one of those giant cards that opens up to be like three feet wide, but she’d never take you seriously. She’d jab and you’d respond out of habit. The same thing would happen no matter which of these sappy or silly cards you might get. So maybe you should try a different response.
*****
You have a date. You’re almost certain that she thinks it’s some level of irony, and it might very well be. Your dinner is in a fancy restaurant and she’s dressed up in some shimmery lavender dress that accents her eyes, and you feel dull and drab in comparison with a worn out plain black suit. But you’re holding a bouquet of roses - black, not the usual red that everyone and their mom gives out since you know that’s her favorite one.
You give her the flowers, silently pleased when she smiles. Okay, maybe the color has a bit of irony for the holiday, but she likes them and that’s the important thing. “Is that all, Dave?”
“Nah. Got one more present.” You pull out a wrapped, flat package. Not too big, but not so small that all the details would be missed.
The look on her face when she sees the painstakingly realistic drawing you made, neatly framed, is almost priceless. “Is this some new level of irony?”
You can’t blame her for wondering. Not every day someone gets a lovingly rendered picture of themselves kissing their ecto-twin, protected in a tasteful photo frame. “New for me, babe. Level zero. Totally genuine gift, no irony strings attached.”
She looks at you, disbelieving for several moments, before holding the frame to her chest. “Thank you, Dave. It’s very lovely.” You try to hear the snark in her words, but no matter how much you analyze her tone of voice, you can’t find it.
So you take a risk. Before pulling out her chair like a gentleman, you lean in and kiss her cheek. She turns her head at the last moment, and all you can feel is the softness of her lips.
This is definitely the best Valentine’s Day ever.
(Illustration by Janksy)