Saturday, February 14, 2015

This unmentionable day

So it's Valentine's Day. I know the mature and sensible thing to do is to ignore it (or maybe even sneer) but that is reasonably difficult given how many emails full of gift ideas I have received in the last few weeks.

I actually thought to myself that since I am never given anything or taken out anywhere I would treat myself to something or other. I wouldn't be so silly as to pay Valentine's Day premiums on cut flowers, or go out to dinner by myself, which would be simply awful, so I thought about going to Bunnings for a flowery living plant instead, but given I may need to move sometime soon I decided to stall on that idea. Perhaps I can have a new book (yay! - any excuse).

And I know that men don't want to receive things from women they're not interested in, and that the surest way to make a man not want what you have to give, and treat it like it is worthless, is to give it to him without making him work hard for it, and I know that if a man was interested in me he'd be asking me out, not waiting for me to give a silly Valentine or for me to do the asking or just grunting on social media or ... And I am not going to trust a man who isn't taking the initiative, because you have to ask yourself why he isn't, and I have had enough trouble. So I didn't give anyone anything either.

It's a shame really, because I don't know whether gift-giving is one of my love languages or what the psychological compulsion and enjoyment is, but I like finding different and apt and sometimes fun gifts to give. I don't ever want to be in on the histrionics that unless you get twelve roses, a ribboned box of chocolates and a stuffed gorilla it activates the Cold War, I just like some of the fun little tongue-in-cheek and humorous things. But I shall keep it for the day, which I know may never come, when I meet a man who appreciates what I have to give, in the ways that I have to give it.

And I know I can give my girlfriends or my relatives or homeless people cards and fun things any time I want, and that's a nice thing to do, but who wants to pretend that's the same thing. And I know that God loves me more than any man on this earth ever will, which is not actually a very tall order for God so far in that comparison, and that God's love is a whole lot more than I deserve.

Anyway, I was listening to Oh to be Loved by Thad Cockrell the other day, when I discovered it has been recorded by Page CXVI also. So, here are both versions, which are suitably kind of mellow for the day.

1 comment:

bec said...

Great post Ali! And hey, we're on the other side of it now (though the annoying thing on social media is that even after the day is done with here, you have to hear about it for another several hours). Mum's comment was that it was nice for it to fall on a Saturday because then she didn't feel like it was shoved in her face all the way through the city when she went to work.