Just do the dishes without being told, without being asked, just this one time. That’s pretty much the fastest, easiest, cheapest way to win Valentine’s Day, at least in my opinion, but, eh, I’m pretty easy to please.
I don’t really go into the jewelry/flowers/chocolate-ness of the holiday myself. That stuff’s just not for me.
I don’t like jewelry. I never remember to wear it, or clean it for that matter. (Did you know you’re supposed to clean it? I didn’t. Apparently that’s kind of a big deal.)
And flowers? I don’t like flowers, at least on Valentine’s Day because it’s just such a cop-out. “Oh, look, I know so much about you, I based your gift on a 1-800-FLOWERS ad I heard on the radio as I was driving into work this morning. I feel this completely, homogenized, commercialized perishable is the perfect way to celebrate our unique and special relationship. Also it was on sale. So, that’s a plus.”
(In retrospect, I may be kind of jerk about the flowers.)
And chocolate, I know people are going to hate me for saying this, but I’m just not that into chocolate. I’m more of a cheese gal myself. If you give me a choice between fancy-smancy, high-end, gourmet chocolate and concession stand nachos with that unnaturally-yellow cheese, I’ll choose the cheapo nachos every damn time. That’s my jam. I know what I’m about and I’m about cheese.
I’m also about anal retentive, just-this-side-of obsessive compulsive cleanliness so what I really, really want for Valentine’s Day is pretty much what I want every day: I want for someone other than me to do the dishes.
Heck, they don’t even have to do the dishes really. They can just shove them in the dishwasher, throw in the soap and press that little magic start button. That’s my kind of grand romantic gesture. It’s free and just three easy steps. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. I’m in love.
I have a sneaking suspicion that’s all anyone really wants on this day of love — someone else to do the dishes or the laundry or any of the other myriad of other mundane, boring tasks adults have to complete every day. You know, all that lame stuff. We’re all pretty sick of doing it. If you love someone, do that junk for them.
Those are swoon-worthy, Casanova-type moves there, bud. Do some of that stuff and your significant other will love you, guaranteed. (Though, technically as your significant other, they should love you whether or not you do the dishes. But that’s really not a very good reason to avoid doing the dishes.)
So on this Valentine’s Day, buy the flowers/chocolates/jewelry if you feel the advertising-induced compulsion to do so. But, then, seriously, do the dishes. That’s the really impressive bit right there. That’s the game-changer. The piece de resistance. In short, the best dang part.
Unless, of course, you get your Valentine nachos, you really can’t beat nachos.
In fact, I’m going to go make some, eat some and then totally not wash that plate. Yup, I’m just going to leave it setting there. Why? Because, Happy Valentine’s Day to me, that’s why.