Valentine’s Day can be confusing for blokes.
I remember last year the missus kept telling me not to worry about it.
“It’s over commercialised B.S.,” she said.
“I am too old,” she said.
“It’s all aimed at the young ones,” she said.
She was going on and on, but the only part I heard was… “Don’t buy me anything”, so I didn’t, and I very quickly forgot all about Valentine’s Day.
That was a monumental mistake on my part.
I remember I took her to the pub for dinner, I couldn’t work out why she was getting all dolled up. I wondered if I should put a shirt on over my singlet. I was worried it might be her birthday so I grabbed the hammer drill off the passenger seat and put it in the back of the ute and when we got to the pub I made sure I got mushy peas on top of her pie, because I am thoughtful like that.
I remember her looking at me all starry eyed, I thought ‘Bloody hell I have forgotten something’. I dropped my sauce packet on the floor so I had to get down on one knee to reach it. Apparently she thought I was proposing. I ended up wearing my two pies as headphones and she took my beer. I was picking pastry out of my ears for days.
How was I supposed to know it was Valentine’s Day? I won’t forget this year, well let’s face it I probably will forget, but just to be sure I don’t end up in the dog house again I decided to pick her up a bunch of flowers from the servo every week during February, because I am thoughtful like that.