Last year at this time, I had received a beautiful bouquet of Valentine's Day flowers from a woman who, unbeknownst to me, was about to dump me. What was this woman really thinking as she recited my name, address, and the message on the card to the delivery person at the other end of the phone?, "Um, have the card say, 'you have no idea what's about to hit you' ... um, no, wait a minute, you better make it 'I love you' instead." Less than a week later, the flowers were still alive but the relationship was dead.
This year, Valentine's Day will be a non-event for me. I have neither admirers ( that I know of ) nor objects of my special affections. Objects of my lust, yes, but I don't send flowers to girls I want to sleep with. I send them furtive glances. And there's no 800-number for those yet.
While the rest of the world knocks itself out to celebrate love on Feb. 14, I'd like to take this opportunity to propose a new national holiday, a whole new reason to send a Hallmark card to that special someone. I want a holiday that wallows in the misery of breakups. Love affairs gone bad. The messier the better.
Let's call it, I Loved You, Now Die Day.
Here are some ideas for making I Loved You, Now Die Day super special:
Send a Breakup Bouquet to the one ( s ) you once loved: an unlucky 13 dying red roses, their edges black, their petals sagging, their water stale and yellow ( and a vase that's theirs to keep ) . The card should read, "I know where you live. xxoo."
On your desk at work, put a big jar of little pastel colored candy hearts with catchy phrases: "Don't Be Mine," "Don't Miss U," "No."
Send your ex boxes of dark, bitter chocolate.
Pick up a special Whitman's Breakup Sampler, with a little something for everyone: the I-am-in-love-with-somebody-else patty, the it's-not-you-it's-me-i'm-just-not-ready nut cluster, and chocolate covered cherries-on-the-rebound.
Send the object of your former affections a cute little stuffed bear wearing a tag that says, "You Were Never Very Good In Bed Anyway."
Instead of a romantic candlelight dinner, have an unromantic candlelight dildo, a ritual in which you and your ex-lover torch all the sex toys.
Send perfumed cards that say things like, "I used to dream you'd come back to me. I still have those dreams. Only now, I call them nightmares."
Take advantage of special phone company promotions that let you call your ex as many times as you want and hang up.
Create a breakup picture frame: buy an ordinary frame and shatter the glass.
Spend the entire day watching re-runs of Ellen and movies starring Anne Heche. Take a break and listen to some Melissa Ethridge albums.
Ask your hometown newspaper to replace its Sunday wedding announcements with breakup bulletins: "Jane Q. Public, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Q. Public, was unceremoniously dumped yesterday by Jane Doe, daughter of Dr. and Mrs. John Doe of Rowayton, Connecticut, at the couple's home in Park Slope. Nobody officiated, although many neighbors said they could not help but eavesdrop on the yelling and screaming. Ms. Public is keeping her name and all the nice pots and pans."
Please forward any other ideas you have for celebrating this new national holiday.
And lest you think my fantasy of a national holiday in splitsville is destined to remain just thata fantasyI can tell you that at least one entrepreneur sees dollar signs in the breakup business. While surfing the web recently, I came across a website selling greeting cards to send to friends going through breakups. Most of the choices are warm and fuzzy, like this one:
If it's a time for crying/I'll weep with you/If it's a time for singing/I'll harmonize/If it's a time for moving on/Let me pack your bags/Your marriage is ending/Our friendship endures.
Others are simply non-sensical:
The Marriage Is Over/It's All Asunder/We'll Remember Each Other/Whenever There's Thunder.
But here's my favorite:
Split Splat Splunk
We're all in a funk.
But the air will clear
for you my dear
now that you're rid of the punk.
Now that's what I call a Valentine!