2/14 or The One Day It Sucks to be a Man

While the vast majority of my readership is female, I have, as of late, I surprisingly discovered I have a growing, and dedicated, male readership. This post is a shout out to them.

I often describe, ad nauseum, the struggles and difficulties associated with being a woman, but to be fair, there are drawbacks to being a member of the male gender as well. Valentine's Day is one of them. Yes, Valentine’s Day, along with being kicked in the nuts, and baldness, is one of the hardships suffered by men.

There are some men, I’m sure, for whom V-day is no stress at all, and perhaps they even look forward to it. These men also wax and write poetry, and as I have mentioned before, no one really wants to go out with that guy for more than a few dates after a breakup. But for the average American guy, Valentine’s Day is a contrived, Hallmark holiday, where men every where are forced to declare their love for their significant others.  (Yes, there also some vague religious significance card companies use to protest "It's REAL holiday!", but the St. Valentine story is actually rather depressing and not related to chocolate or over-priced roses in any way.) The poor members of the male sex search for the non-cheesy, romantic greeting card, which if you have roamed the aisles of a card store this month, is a rare thing, indeed, as cards heralding “My Wife, My Love” abound. They will order dozens of over-priced, red roses, which I am convinced, no women over twenty really wants (but every woman should get at least once in her life to prove to herself she actually hates them) and make dinner reservations at expensive, romantic restaurants where they will be packed in like sardines with other suckers, ordering from a prix-fixe, also-know-as-made-ahead-to-deal-with-the-crowds menu, sweating with the pressure of making this the Most Romantic Night Ever.

To my poor, single, male readers, you have it especially hard. What if you have just begun dating a woman? What kind of card do they have for you? I haven’t seen any “I like you a lot, but am waiting until we have sex to decide about you” cards lately. Who wants to invest a hundred bucks on flowers for someone you may not even be speaking to in a month? And, if you’re in a serious relationship, where marriage may be on the horizon, but far in the distance for you, having just successfully run the gauntlet of the holidays without breaking up because you didn’t propose, you now have the high holy day of romance to get through unscathed. Good luck with that.

I think married men have it easiest. Most of us wives have lowered our expectations because if you’ve stuck around this long, we know you love us. And when kids are in the equation, emptying the dishwasher is as romantic as a Shakespeare sonnet. As I have mentioned before, a card (usually a funny one) and the Russell Stover, heart-shaped sampler are all I expect, and H delivers without fail. The poor guy even responded to one of my joke-y, hint emails to maybe add flowers to the list last year. I forwarded him this cheesy ad 1-800-flowers sent me and he ordered the actual item featured instead of taking the hint in a broader sense. Let’s just say it involved a teddy bear. Which I would love if I were sixteen. “A” for effort though.

While I thoroughly enjoy this holiday – I can eat chocolate and drink champagne, and wear pink and red from head to toe, or a t-shirt with a heart motif, and not look like a fifth grader – I can see the blatant unfairness of it for men. We have all heard that joke about National Steak and Blow Job day, and I honestly do not think it’s a bad idea (even though to be honest, women work their asses of for every other holiday and where's our payback? How many Christmas presents did you buy or wrap, H?). However interesting an idea, I can’t see Hallmark taking it up, but perhaps Outback would - it absolutely has to come after V-day to be fair though. Since, if all you got was some lame card from your boyfriend or husband, the most he’s getting on S&BJ Day is Burger King and some over-the-bra action.