We sit on the eve of a great American tradition that can define us as Great Americans, or as bums. Regardless of your opinion, it’s every man’s obligation to take part in this event. Wars have been fought over it, and it’s for us that many men sacrificed so that we could arrive at where we are today.
Welcome to Valentine’s Day.
It is at this time each year that I send the call out to those who ride the narrow path between love and loneliness, warning of the price to be paid for procrastination.
Each year I write about “Aisle Six—Aisle of the Doomed” where, on February 14th, just after 5 pm, in every grocery store, drug store, and other store, men with the thousand-yard stare, slowly walk the aisle looking for any Valentine’s Day card that looks even remotely original.
There is nothing original left at 5 pm on Valentine’s Day.
You have lost my friend. You have not prepared and you will go home and you will admit your failure and the price you pay will be high.
You will sit and stare into the fireplace, perhaps watching your gift from her burn, and you will sip your scotch and wonder many things—things that include the why’s surrounding your failure to act on the day that you should celebrate your love.
The five stages of “Valentine’s Grief.”
- Denial. “Are you sure? I believe Valentine’s Day in in March, just after Easter.”
- Anger. “I swear to God I’m suing Hallmark!”
- Bargaining. “If you will please make her think this half empty bottle of Jose Cuervo is a genuine Valentine’s gift of love from me, I’ll be in row one Sunday Morning!”
- Depression. “Oh hell, she didn’t go for it and I could really use a drink now and she won’t give me the Cuervo back. Why me?”
- Acceptance. “Well, I ain’t getting any and that’s that.
This holiday is an opportunity to show your unconditional love for your wife, girlfriend, or other category you choose. The mere giving of gifts doesn’t express the love in your heart. How can you place an inanimate object, such as jewelry, before you as an expression of your love? How can you insult your mate by pushing forth an expensive artifact or other symbolic proof of excessive expense and expect her to respect you as a result?
I’ll tell you. You better damn well drop some coin somewhere and show up with something other than that stupid grin on your face because all throughout time, people have worshiped their rulers by bringing forth gifts and mister, women rule this world of ours.
If I have to tell you, then you’re already doomed.
As I speak, there are three and a half shopping days until Valentine’s Day. Don’t wait. Go, and not to Big Bobby’s Bargain Hut. You have to step up and stand out now or you become that guy on “Aisle Six—Aisle of the Doomed.”