When Becky gets home today, she'll have a Hallmark card waiting for her along with a box of assorted chocolates. I will want her to know that I spent hours searching for just the right card to express my love and that the box of chocolates I purchased doesn't already have empty slotes inside, where I have strategically removed all of the hard centers. It's her diet and she'll have to live with it.
Like me, I noted dozens of men strolling through the Greeting Card section at the grocery. We all gave each other embarassing nods (sort of like...nice choice, buddy! or better go sentimental instead of humorous if you want some nookie!). I must have read a hundred cards and I have to ask: Who writes these things?
I wrote better love poetry as a college sophomore. And really, how many words can you rhyme with "love"? Whoever this Valentine guy was, he should be drawn and quartered. It's a sick display of a semi-holiday.
As for me and my house, I'm sticking to my hiakus. I can write these in my sleep, and I've also got a few good limericks.