Satirical Snapshots Bringing You…

Rather full up from yesterday’s pancake day where you force fed yourself batter and are now suffering from some sort of gluttonous intolerance, and now it’s Ash Wednesday which means you have to repent not only to God but also to your partner because it’s also Valentine’s Day and you got it wrong. Again.

Thank Goodness For Whimsy On A Wednesday!

You’re welcome.

I hope most of you are floating on that newfound fuzzy feeling of lurrrve, be it rekindled or in that heady first flush stage. Make the most of it because my prediction is that 79.9% of you are perhaps a little bit slighted or bewildered as to what went wrong on V Day.

Allow me to enlighten you as practising mentalist of the blogosphere.

Let’s just start with the premise that logic and emotion don’t usually work well together. AKA women are psycho’s and men are indifferent.

First Love

You think you can’t go wrong. Mistake.

You’re likely to go over the top with excessive gifts and now you’ve set a precedent. This means if you stay together that you are bound to fail because if you don’t maintain or surpass the previous year’s show of emotion, you’re toast.

Or…

You purchase a simple card and a bunch of flowers. Nice. Wrong. Whilst she may exude kisses and thanks because she’s in the first throes of romance, her inner psycho bitch is evaluating you for future reference.

*The card could have been a bit more romantic.

*Flowers were nice but full of ‘fillers’ to pad out the not so many roses. Hmm. If this is his first attempt is he really boyfriend material? Doesn’t bode well for the future, does it now.

You are now being assessed like a new dress bought on impulse. It stays in the wardrobe being looked at. It’s nice, she likes it; that’s why she bought it. However, hmmm… there’s something not quite right about it. She can’t quite put her finger on what that is. She will pull it out of the closet and hold it up against herself every now and then. Just to check. One day, in a fit of temper she will toss the dress into a bag and give it to charity without a second thought.

Take heed, guys.

The Bloom Is Off The Rose

You’re together. An item. There’s been peaks and troughs but on the whole, you’re trying to make a go of it. Along comes the day of love.

Inner psycho bitch is already ten steps ahead of the game. For goodness sake don’t mess up, boy.

Worst case scenario? You forget. She has waited all day for some surprise gift and her angst has been building to the point where magma is close to exploding. What you don’t know is that she has had to witness her colleagues in the office turning into prissy little princesses that make her want to vomit as they fawn over their ginormous, delivered bouquets. It doesn’t matter that she knows that Karen’s boyfriend recently had a one night stand with the tart from marketing because she still got flowers.

She awaits your arrival home trying not to be frosty but it’s an inbuilt female defence system, and all she gets is you coming through the door stating that you’re tired and does she fancy a takeaway curry?

Whilst she promised herself she wouldn’t mention it, she can’t help it and the lava spurts out like a torrent of evil.

The worst thing a man can say? “I don’t believe in this commercial crap. I love you every day not just on Valentine’s Day.”

This line does not, repeat NOT, work on women. You see, it is irrelevant that you love her every day because that should be a given. This was the day that you should have proved it by acknowledging the fact regardless of the commercial pressure. Now she doesn’t believe you love her enough and you can shove the curry up your arse because she is going to bed in a full-on chastity fleece pyjama set and the pillows down the middle of the bed. Here she will stay fuming whilst re-reading Fifty Shades of Gray bollocks and believe that other men are just like Christian and you are a pathetic waste of her breathing space.

You will have to console yourself with a Pot Noodle, Star Trek re-runs and a quiet night to yourself.  She thinks this is punishment but this is actually the best night in you’ve had for six weeks.

NB: Even if you are upfront about not celebrating Valentine’s Day before the first one even comes along, don’t be fooled by the female nod of agreement and coy smile. Her inner psycho bitch has already planted the notion that, “If you’re THE ONE he will throw this silly principle to one side and shower you with gifts and affection, obviously…”

Damage Limitation

Does not exist in the Valentine’s scenario. If you think you can make it up to her the next day you are sorely mistaken. It’s too late. Even if you sent the worlds most beautiful bouquet by way of apology she will just want to rip the heads off all the flowers because she hates you. It didn’t help that you slept soundly next to her snoring your head off last night whilst she lay awake plotting ways to kill you.

However, if you don’t send flowers by way of apology the next day then you really are sleeping with your secretary.

Either way, you cannot win.

Don’t be surprised to come home to find her dressed to the nines, cooly stating that she’s going out with her friends. This is female code for “Look and weep you total toss pot because somebody out there will pay attention to me if you can’t be bothered to.”

If Love Is Like Wine Then Marriage Is Like Vinegar

You’ve been together for years. Like a pair of comfortable old slippers. The companionship, whilst somewhat staid and predictable, offers a warmth and security. You know where you are; like Groundhog Day.

She wonders what happened to romance and you wonder what happened to that svelte like nymph that used to have you rocking on your heels. If you ever asked her that she would remind you that you killed it.

Valentine’s Day may be celebrated in a passive-aggressive fashion with a sarcastic card or a bunch of flowers from Asda, cunningly purchased the day before when they were half the price. She’ll make a show of putting them in a vase, somewhere in the back of the kitchen where they don’t mess with the decor that you’ve spent your whole life’s wages perfecting in your now perfect house where joy reigns.

She’s given up on expecting any grand show of wild emotion and you’ve given up on naked dancing with benefits. At a push, you might both share a meal out but be back in time for you to watch Wonder Woman and her to stalk her ex-boyfriends on Facebook.

Don’t worry though, it is Ash Wednesday so starving yourself of emotion is a noble sacrifice!

Happy Whimsy!