Sunday, February 13, 2011

Love Me Tender

I detest Valentine's Day. All that fluff and nonsense and...red crap.

Case in point. I was walking yesterday through the Geri-Dome (our local Beachvillea mall, so called because of the disproportionate amount of elderly with walkers and 'mobility scooters' ). Usual reason for visit to Geridome. Flying trip to Big Dub for supplies and a whole heap of stuff we probably don't need, etc. On the way back to my car I was required to walk past Bras 'n' Things and the Cheesecake Shop, both of which were glaringly adorned with Valentine rubbish.

I have never and will never ever desire to wear a maid's outfit on Valentine's Day, or a nurse or in fact anything in sheer red or black polyester. Nope, can't even be swayed with the addition of faux fur to the ahh..tiny little area of the garment designed to hold one's bosom. It concerns me that in a clearly old-person dominated shopping centre there even ARE displays of this kind of lingerie. Crikey, if you need a mobility scooter to get around and your favourite store is the Chemist, then i'm not sure you need to be browsing at anything with nylon, whips and corsetry. I also do not wish to feed my beloved a chocolate swirl cheesecake, especially one the size of a small fridge, however 'good value' it may be. Perhaps the large sized cheesecakes and love-outfits are designed for the Nursing Home (sorry... LIFESTYLE Village) 'swingers and grinners' Elvis night.

Oh, it's all too much. I simply will extend my agnosticism regarding Religious holidays to Valentine's Day as well.

If I'm not dressing up, then apparently I'm dictated by catalogues and marketing to buy my beloved a gift on Valentine's day. Like, wasn't it just Christmas? Do i really need to watch ads on telly for his and hers tingly lubricant? And chocolate body paint? Soon the whipped cream will be kept in the personal care aisle instead of being classified as dairy! V. Day becomes known as 'V.D. and foreign object removal night' in the Emergency Room! You know, in the old days we used to just know how to 'do it' without tingly glow in the dark tubes of goo and sugary stuff. Now you're a fail whale if you can't pop a pingpong ball! And who's going to wash the sheets after putting that muck everywhere? Hmmmm????

This weekend's newspaper insert tried to help out with a V.Day Shopping spesh. Apparently I'm to pop out and acquire a chocolate fondue set, red lips telephone and salt & pepper shakers called 'bump n grind'. How romantic. "Hey darl, here's some tableware. Ya want salt n pepper on that cheesecake?" I think not.

I've already been asked whether BtT and I are booked into a restaurant for V.Day. The asker, who doesn't know us well just yet obviously, seemed shocked when I said that we'd rather stay home and watch telly, and go out some night when it's not so busy.
"But don't you want to have a romantic dinner on Valentine's Day?" I was asked.
"Oh darl," said I. "BtT's idea of a good dinner is a rack of tender ribs, a steak and calamari. And I'm happy with a carafe of house wine. Hog's Breath isn't exactly fine dining. We can go anytime."

And it's true. Brad the Tradie and I like to go out occasionally. We're close. We're tight. We're just not mooshies. We love chocolate but we just don't buy imported wrapped ones with little teddies wrapped to them. Seriously, the junk mail just about has me convinced tha Valentine's day is a day of homage for synthetics Made in China. BtT and I are all for public displays of affection. We've even ... Ahhh... publicly displayed quite a lot of affection in various ... places before (I won't list them, but the High Court grounds in Canberra come to mind). We just don't necessarily do it on Feb 14th each year with Katy Perry playing 'Firework' in the background. I mean... The pressure of having a date locked in. And the lack of predictability. "Hey darl, ya wanna do it on the 14th? I'll wear a polyester outfit, you bring the nasty chocolate spray mousse... We'll spend heaps of dough on some crap food then go pash next to the streetlight..." And for goodness sake, telly's pretty bloody good on a Monday night! BtT and I will do something truly romantic and Bogan... ie, curl up with bed with a bag of chips to watch Good News Week and piss ourselves laughing. Someone who doesn't mind that I snort when I laugh... Now that's true love.

Not quite as impressive as our fave Bogan cricketer Warnie at the mo.

He's batting way above his average hooking model/actress/walking Barbie doll Elizabeth Hurley, so, in preparation for her visit down under he went and bought a new mattress and has been tweeting his followers asking for restaurant suggestions other than Macca's. The paps are all staked out for Lizzie-watch, and who knows what other delights Warnie has in store. Black satin sheets? A little manscaping so he can throw a little shrimp on the ummm... Barbie?

Being one to have an open mind (and plenty of time on my hands), I read an article by clinical psychologist recently about the steps to reaching 'relationship harmony'.

Perhaps I should share this with Shane. Recently, i have had a few friends in a place of, lets say, relationship non-harmony and thought reading the article might help me sympathise and offer something if asked for advice. I then related these 'Abodes' whatsits back to BtT and my harmonious Bogan marriage, to help interpret the, well, very big words.

So here it is. Blossy's interpretative guide to a zen marriage (or de facto arrangement or whatever):

1. Consider loving kindness. So apparently this is about "truly wishing your partner is free of suffering". Easy. Note to husband: I can be truly free of suffering if you'd finish our yard, unpack the groceries and not make me interact with a car servicing centre of petrol station ever again. In return I will cook bacon and egg rolls once a week, freeing you from suffering the injustice of a no-cholesterol Sunday morning. Done. Oh, and if you have a sore back or whatever, I'll personally administer the pills & Jim Beam to alleviate us all from suffering.

2. Display compassion. Here, we are being considerate of our partner's mistakes. I don't make any obviously, but I'll try to be considerate when BtT stuffs up. Could be tricky. Perhaps see Jim Beam point above for that as well. Good thing he's bought a Still.

3. Find sympathetic joy for your partner. We're supposed to show interest in what is joyous to our partner. Celebrate their happiness. Well DUH. I DO let him watch Fox sports when he gets home from work AND I know who the captain of Collingwood is. I even made sure the new house had a whole room where he can store sporting crap erm...memorabilia. I'm happy for him. When he builds a great retaining wall at work, we share the pride. "Noice wall darl." "Thanks babe. Gettus a drink?" "Yeah hon. Happy for your wall. Celebrating your success." See? I'm a natural.

4. Respond to your partner with equanimity. Had to look this one up as thought it might've been a new bedroom trick. No. Apparently I'm to live with patience, and limit extreme and reactive emotions. Accept that the relationship will experience Winters, but that Spring will follow. You see, I don't mind Winter actually, because footwear is at its best then, and I'm quite happy to shop for boots. In fact, I'd say our relationship had a 'winter' once when I wore nothing to bed EXCEPT my new faux fur knee high boots. But, this equanimity stuff is obviously more for men than women. Given that I am not prone to getting the craps with BtT. I am VERY patient with BtT. Who is reading this rofl-ing no doubt.

So, in short, in order for a relationship to work, we need to actually work at it, not just wear a French maid outfit every Feb 14th in lieu of shows on telly.

If you're a V.D. sucker and have an annual routine, then by all means, cut sick. Bogan it up if you must with whipped cream and polyester, but in my opinion, it's just as good, if not better, to show the occasional interest in the beloved's footy team, go out for ribs every now and then and let him admire your beauty and admit that you're perfect. Go on. Try it. Be spontaneous on the 15th. Or 16th. With all the equanimity you can shove on top of that damn cheesecake!

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Love Me Tender - Elvis Presley, 1956