Thinking Outside The Candy Box
February 10, 2005

In spring, a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love. But it's still winter in our neck of the redwoods when Valentine's Day sneaks up on us. Most of us are still recovering from our sugar and alcohol indulgences of the holidays when we're suddenly thrust into the romantic spotlight, expected to offer the perfect expression of love to our partners. (And woe betide the lover who fails to rise to the occasion.) Oh, the aggravation! Who could be romantic with all that stress?
But wait; we still have few precious days before the big event. Take some deep, calming breaths and we'll go down the list of options.

Flowers and candy are the most traditional way to express your love, an idea chiefly promoted by the flower and candy industries. Flowers are fine, as long as your designated sweetie is allergy-free, and doesn't mind dropping everything to rustle up a vase full of water to stash them in. (Your romantic karma is sure to suffer if your Valentine bouquet wilts before the night is out.) Women are supposed to love candy, but if your sweetie is on some radical low-carb, low-sugar, low-fun diet, this gift might open up a whole sub-genre of complications. She might be thrilled at the excuse to indulge just this once, or she might dump you as an insensitive dweeb for throwing temptation in her path.

Yeah, I know, it's the thought that counts. But when in doubt, try thinking outside the candy box. I can't pretend to tell you what women want; I don't even know what I want from one day to the next. But I can conjure up a few visions of Valentines Past that might inspire you to try something a little more fresh than a pre-fab Hallmark greeting
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One of the best Valentine gifts I ever received was when Art Boy bought me an electric typewriter. (Look it up in the dictionary, kids.) Not perhaps the most "romantic" gift I could imagine at the time, but it was there a week later when my old manual conked out for the last time on deadline day. It might not have been what I thought I wanted, but it was exactly what I needed.

As I've mentioned before in this column, I once gave Art Boy a Valentine IOU for The Gift of Time, my pledge to not be late getting ready for any event for one entire year. It was a desperate stroke of genius on my part; he loved it. Unfortunately for him, this gift was not renewable, and we've since slipped back into our old habits: he fumes while I dress. (Bear in mind, Art Boy only owns three dress shirts, four T shirts, two pairs of pants and one pair of shoes—all in coordinating colors; of course it only takes him 0.65 minutes to get dressed to go out.)

Which leads me to another Valentine tip: the Gift of Patience. If the scene above is reenacted in your house, there are several ways to respond, only one of which—patience—has any merit. My esteemed colleague Sven recently wrote a column about platitudes to avoid when people are depressed about the holidays. As my gift to you, here are the two things you definitely don't want to say if your sweetie is running late for the Valentine festivities:

1) Are you ready? (Oh, silly me, I forgot to come out of the bedroom. Thanks for reminding me.)

2) Nobody cares what you look like. (It's hard to imagine what part of this observation is supposed to be comforting—that nobody cares enough about me to notice what I'm wearing? That nothing I could wear or do could possibly help, so don't bother?—much less speed me along. It certainly won't put me in the mood for romance.)

Art Boy pops in a CD of the Kinks singing "So Tired of Waiting" while I'm bustling behind closed doors. It doesn't make me go any faster, but at least we're both in a better mood when I finally emerge.

It seems to me the day devoted to celebrating love shouldn't have to be so fraught with potential disaster. It shouldn't have to cost a fortune either. Skip the fancy dinner and go out for breakfast or lunch instead. The food will be just as good, and the daytime treat will be twice as illicit.

Traditionalists can buy a decent bottle of champagne for about seven bucks at Trader Joe's (as long as your sweetie isn't a member of AA, or subject to carbonation headaches). For about the same price, you can buy two exquisite pieces of chocolate—not an entire box—at Donnelly's.

Treat your loved one to movie passes, or rent a movie to watch at home. Forget the "romantic" epics like Gone With The Wind, Ghost, or Titanic; they'll only make you feel inadequate. Try Duck Soup with the Marx Brothers, or Young Frankenstein. Nothing is more romantic than shared laughter.

Or try the simple approach. Scrawl a heart on a piece of paper (think of it as folk art; the more misshapen it is, the more charming and unique). Be sure to add "I love you." That's the thought that really counts.