It’s that time of year again. While all my friends look forward to romantic dinners, shiny accessories and bite-sized desserts, I look forward to my husband’s annual declaration: Valentine’s Day Is Man’s Worst Enemy.
According to him, Valentine’s Day was completely fabricated by a lonely woman who likes chocolate, drama and is obsessed with the color red. She apparently lives in a penthouse funded by Hallmark and 1-800-Flowers. And together, on February 15, they roll around on piles of hundred-dollar bills while laughing at the suckers who are the American public. What, you haven’t heard this version? While it is definitely insane, it’s not nearly as depressing as it sounds. I was also given good news at the end. Since he is actually a very thoughtful, romantic guy, my husband decided to come up with his own holiday instead — Corey Loves Andee Day.
At first, I couldn't have been more excited. After all, it’s pretty flattering to have a holiday named after you. All my friends starting fighting with their significant others, because they wanted their own holidays, too. (That was maybe my favorite part.) But, as my husband explained, before you get too excited, there are a few things you have to understand. I've always thought holidays shouldn't need explaining. But the first rule of Corey Loves Andee Day is, much like The Great Pumpkin, it cannot be questioned. If you do, you may be left with nothing.
At this point, Corey Loves Andee Day begins to lose some of its luster. The thing is, there’s just so many rules. Since it was designed to be nothing like Valentine’s Day, Corey Loves Andee Day can never include over-the-top poetry, fancy dinners, or any movies that star Meg Ryan, Tom Hanks or that kid from the movie “Jerry Maguire.” Also, surprise deliveries of flowers are off limits (too cliche), as well as cards (no one else can profit).
And unlike the “predictable, unoriginal Valentine’s Day,” Corey Loves Andee Day comes on a different date each year. Or so I’m told, anyway. Apparently this new holiday is on some kind of Pagan, space time continuum, leap year schedule. Because it has only come around once in 11 years. But I’m not complaining. Really, I’m not. The one year it did happen — back in 2003, I think it was — we watched hours of The Carol Burnett show, ate pizza, and took a nap in the middle of the afternoon. I didn't have to wear high heels or put on makeup. In other words, it was perfect.
So it’s not orthodox. So I don’t know when it’s coming — or technically, if — or what “it” actually is. But I don’t care. To me, there’s nothing more sweet or hopeful than knowing this year for Valentine’s Day, I’ll be getting absolutely nothing.