Well, it happened again. There was no heart shaped box of chocolates waiting to be unwrapped, its contents to be scrutinized, arranged in order from the one I’ll like most (saved for last) to the one I’ll like least (eaten first). Despite numerous hints including the Godiva catalog left open on the page with Valentine’s boxes right next to the computer my husband sits at every night while searching the web for I’m afraid to ask what, the counter held a vase of the traditional roses and a little tiny bag that I knew could not be hidding the coveted box of chocolatey heaven.
I’m not really sure how much clearer I could have gotten. For the last six years I have actually told him multiple times before Feb. 14th arrived that all I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is a heart shaped box of chocolates. I am not really a picky woman. I don’t want him to worry about finding some obscure gift no other woman will have. I don’t need a fancy dinner out or even a gourmet one in. I don’t need the dozen long stem roses whose prices have been hiked up in an attempt to make gas prices look cheap. I certainly don’t need jewelry of any kind, even if it is heart shaped and “I’m sure to love it.” No, I’m easy to please. If it’s heart shaped and full of chocolate*, I’m happy.
This year I really thought my husband was going to get it right. I thought that after six years of the hints getting less and less vague and me actually getting closer to just taking his credit card and going to the store myself, I would finally get my red velvety box. Once again though, I felt like a child after every present had been opened on Christmas day, realizing that the only thing I actually wanted, the one I’d circled in the catalog, begged for all year and even cleaned my room and not tormented my sister for, was not anywhere under the tree.
Oddly, my husband is not the only one who cannot take my less than subtle hints to heart. No one I have ever dated/been married to on Valentine’s day has ever listened to me and just gotten me the box of chocolates. My husband’s logic is that he feels chocolates are too mundane. They are what everyone gets. My pointing out that every year he’s gotten me roses, which I think proved my point, didn’t make him very happy. Then I felt bad because he thought I didn’t like my gifts.
The truth is, the roses he got me were beautiful. They are white with pink tips (my favorite type of roses–we used to have them in my garden growing up). It’s sweet that he listened and knew what to get. He also did get me something chocolate: chocolate covered bing cherries from Trader Joe’s. Also a nice gift as I do like their taste, even if they don’t have the allure of the assorted box where I’m never quite sure if I’ll get nouget, or raspberry filling or maple whip. He even threw in a gift car to my favorite coffee shop which I know will be used before the end of the weekend. All of which are nice, thoughtful gifts.
Still, they made me feel sad. They made me realize that once again, someone I love didn’t listen to me. Year after year I make the same plee and year after year I am denied. And yet I keep hoping that next year will be the year I come home and find my husband standing in the living room, his hand behind his back, trying to conceal that magical heart shaped box that I know holds the key to my happiness…at least for the next few weeks while I savour one piece each night.
So once again, I was without my beloved chocolates. Once again I had to go to Godiva the day after to buy my own box on clearance. Although it wasn’t the surprise I was looking for, I did get twice as much by waiting one day. Then again, I had to buy them myself.
Maybe next year.
*This is only partially true. I don’t actually want one of those cheap boxes of Hershey’s Pot of Gold or Whitman’s sampler deals. He did get me one of those last year. The one thing I’m a bit snobby about is my chocolate. I’ll still eat those and think they are ok, but my philosophy is that life is too short to eat mediocre chocolate–at least for a special ocassion.