I love love. I love everything romantic. I'm a sucker for happy endings and blissful couples wandering off into the sunset.
I'm a freak for mush.
So, how I ended up with the least romantic man on Earth is beyond me.
But that's okay. He's a good man, a great husband, a wonderful father, and if his only failing is that he lacks the romance gene, it's not that big of a deal.
Still, I hold out hope every year that even a smidge of my predilection toward sap might rub off on him.
Not a ball-shriveling amount, mind you. I don't want to be married to me.
But it might be nice if it was just enough so that he might take it upon himself to surprise me one of these Valentine's Days with something special.
Don't get me wrong. I do appreciate the flowers he buys, even as they get cheaper with every passing year. But it would be nice if he really put some thought into the day rather than glossing over it with a supermarket floral arrangement and a leftover box of chocolates.
It's not like I'm asking for a lot here. A heartfelt card would be nice. A day off of work so we can spend time together, even better.
I'm not that hard to please. Really, I'm not.
So, what am I getting this Valentine's Day?
A catalytic converter. For his car. To replace the one he destroyed by running over "something".
God help the boy if he sets foot in this house with carnations and Reese's tonight.