…No, we’re NOT talkin’ of the alternative definition of ‘V-Day’ as “a global activist movement to end violence against women and girls.” Though that’s a good idea, too.
We’re talkin’ something more deadly and more insidious: a romance coup backed by the Satanic sweetness of Hallmark, Stover’s, and Whitman’s. A revolution fought not with guns but with candy, jewelry, and (for some of us) kitschy stuffed animals sporting hearts.
We’re talking THE DAY. As in ‘TODAY’. And for those absentminded males of the population, this may NOT be pretty.
On V-Day the battlefield can ohso quickly move from living room to bedroom. It can be strewn either with hearts or with the tears of the Woman Scorned by the Man Who Left Her Behind on V-Day – your choice, Dudes (Ed.’s note: and you can take ‘left her behind’ in one of several ways…)
It’s a day to either suck it up (Ed.’s note: …. nevermind…) and realize that every good restaurant in America will have a waiting line and no reservations (Helpful Hint: for better service, it’s the perfect day to choose Denny’s over Chez Snoot), or win brownie points in the Romance Department by welcoming her arrival home from work with candles and a dinner that doesn’t include a sink full of cleanup materials for her later attention (in other words – a CATERED affair, with ‘make dirty dishes VANISH’ specified in the contract).
So what is WRONG with this picture of domestic tranquility?
For one thing – what’s all this ‘she’ and ‘her’ stuff???
Doesn’t the DUDE get any V-Day celebration???
There’s simply a glaring vacuum surrounding this topic.
Suggested ads for HIM:
“For that perfect gift with just the right bang for the buck, come on over to Guns and Ammo! Guns and Ammo: the gift that says: “Sure, hon, you can go huntin’”
“The way to your man’s heart is through his stomach. So treat your man to a Real Man’s Meal. Here at Stewing in Our Juices we have enough all-you-can-eat-meat to place him in a stupor. Pair that with our Triple Chocolate Delight dessert and you will cut the evening woodsplitting snoring to a gentle purr of delight.”
“Why settle for a 50-inch HDTV for one wall of your Man’s Cave when you can have the Biggest Screen Ever Made covering the ENTIRE CAVE? Just call IndiaTech with your order today: we can sneak into your Man’s Cave and provide him with our patented SurroundRoom system. Every wall’s filled with action!” (Diane’s Note: But something HDTV invents CAN possibly do the job!)
But, no. V-Day ads are ALL ABOUT HER. (And if you think you’re gonna get lucky 2nite after ‘forgetting The Day’, just be advised: if you neglect the proper V-Day homage, your luck will find ya running out to the curb holding a suitcase and a sign asking for a ride straight to hell. (…surely THAT will be preferable Her reaction to you forgetting in the face of like a ZILLION commercials and ads designed to make even those with Alzheimer’s more than aware of V-Day.)
V-Day: it’s for the WOMAN, obviously.
In the name of equity and fairness, I propose a male counterpart which shall be termed Man Cave Romance Day. A day where the women lovingly caters to her mate, who just as lovingly is ignoring her in favor of a HDTV masterpiece shown down in the bowels of the Rec Room.
Oh, wait. We already HAVE that.
It’s called ‘Superbowl Sunday’.
Happy V-Day from the makers of Hallmark, Whitman’s, See’s, and Stovers!