Pony Up the Cash for Valentine's Day

Ah, the age-old yearly dilemma is about to rear its ugly head again. No, I'm not talking about Punxsutawney Phil - he reared his ugly head earlier this month...I'm talking about something even more newsworthy and guaranteed to make most people wish they could crawl back inside and hide out for another six weeks:

It's soon going to be Valentine's Day.

Valentine's Day, which according to the radio station I was listening to this morning, is the day most divorce papers are filed (or something like that)...which makes you wonder why the word "man" is even IN "romance"...but I fear I'm doing a bit of digressing, so I'll take this opportunity to digress a little further.

Valentine's Day, when I was a kid, was all about going to the store to pick out Valentine's Day cards and carefully picking out which of the nicer ones to hand address (first names only - this was grade school after all) to your best friends. The ugly ones were always relegated to the kids you didn't like much at all and had less sentiment than those "Be Mine" candy hearts the richer kids could afford to package up in their envelopes.

We weren't rich, therefore no one ever got candy from me...and we would wait until the cards were marked down and all the "neato" ones were always gone and I was left with the social embarrassment equivalent of wearing "last year's favourite cartoon character" underpants in gym class.

In a word, I learned to hate Valentine's Day early on.

Besides having the fanciest Valentine's Day cards and candy treats, the rich kids in my class always seemed to have ponies. I never had a pony and only once came remotely close to riding one - I think it was too old to do anything except stand there when I was placed on its back. So much for my exciting pony ride as a kid...the imitation "nickel ride" ones outside the Acme grocery store at least moved. But that didn't stop every single person who didn't have a real one...from wanting one.

So, I was thinking today about Valentine's Day and how I'm not going to get anything yet again - as you kinda need a "loved one" banging his head against the wall thinking what to possibly get you to get the most out of his dollar investment..."more bang for his buck" so to speak.

But that didn't stop me...

...hmmm...let me think...horses buck. So do ponies. How about giving your loved one a pony for Valentine's Day? Chances are, if they weren't a spoiled little rich kid growing up on a sprawling piece of land, they never had one, either...but I bet they always wanted one. Now...that type of romance can't be printed on any card...that, I bet, will REALLY move her.

And I know just the place to get a pony. And, I would figure by the looks of the sign, you can save a little cash if you don't want the primo ones. Yeah...why shop for cards and candy weeks before when you can get them half price the day before? Why pay top dollar for a brand spanking new pony - when you can get...a USED one???

Yeah...you heard me. A USED pony.

What they used it for is anyone's guess. I'm kinda thinking it's several years old like the one whose back I was on as a kid...and headed off to the glue factory any day now. And what better time of year to tug on those heart strings of yours? I think the discussion would go a bit like this:

You: "Uh...could you tell me a bit about the difference between a new and used pony, sir?"

Seller: "Well, the new ponies haven't been used. The used ones have."

You: "For what?"

Seller: "Well, they've kinda served their purpose in life. They're old. But since they are ponies they'll never get any bigger as they're ponies. Ponies don't grow into horses, did you know that?"

You: "Uhhh...I thought ponies were baby horses."

Seller: "Nope. Ponies are a smaller variant of horse...and as such they don't fetch as much at the glue factory...or so I've been told. Yep...these here used ponies are headin' there tomorrow if they don't get bought. Just like with aluminum cans, the glue place bases it all on poundage."

You: "You mean this pony here is going to the glue factory tomorrow???"

Seller: "Well, I don't exactly take them TO the glue factory, sir,...I just sell them to the guy who does. I'm not exactly HEARTLESS, here."...

So, just like with the guy who keeps sawing the legs off the next puppy and giving prospective pickers the sob story about how "that one's destined for the pound if no one chooses him" - the used pony man probably doesn't even have any "new" ponies. I mean, who among us with half an iota of sentiment...would choose a "fresh outta the gate" new pony over the one that's destined to make the sticky stuff you lick on that very Valentine's Day card you just bought?

I mean, seriously, could you live with yourself knowing where the glue from next year's card is going to be coming from?

So, I say...pony up the cash...get her something she'll remember - and something she's always wanted since she was a kid. Diamonds are nice...but a used pony lasts...well, however long a used pony lasts.

(Yes, that's a real sign - I've been passing it for years when I drive "the back way" to/from my house. It used to be hand-made...now it's a "proper" sign. I don't know which was funnier...I think maybe the way it is now. And, I have you know, I risked my life to take this photo nearly standing in 55 mph traffic. The things I do for three people to read and comment, I tell ya. And, yes, I blurred out the phone number but left the website name - which makes no mention of ponies, btw...a fact I found quite odd.)

"Hey, let's talk about sex!"

Give me any woman and ten minutes...and it will lead to sex.

Well, not actual sex, mind you, but the conversation will eventually end up with us talking about some facet of sex. I'm almost convinced I've had more sex talks than Dr. Ruth and Dr. Laura Berman have...COMBINED.

There's something about complete anonymity which people seem comfortable enough about, to start spilling out their most private details right there at the card, produce or coffee section in the supermarket.

These are women of all ages - all ethnicities and all social statures. For some reason I must come across as a great sex therapist, as this has been going on with me for ages. Maybe it's my talkative nature, maybe it's my ease to listen and actually pay attention at the same time...maybe it's just that a whole lot of women like to talk about sex with complete strangers. Who knows?

All I know is that 98 percent of women out there (based on my "research in the field")...are not at all satisfied with their sex lives and/or their partners. Oh, they all go home and act like they are...or maybe they don't; but if it's any indication of the information I've been told, women clearly aren't in happy relationships...sexual or otherwise.

"Why do these anniversary cards have to say, 'You're the best thing that ever happened to me?' or 'You make my life complete.' or 'You're the best husband a wife could ever wish for!' ...why can't there just be generic 'Happy Anniversary' cards without any sentiment on them, whatsoever?"

Oh yes, I've been privy to that conversation a zillion times. Do you know how incredibly hard it is for these women to actually pick out a card? There's not many "un-sappy, un-gushing, un-laden with sexual innuendo" cards to choose from. And the ones that do fit that bill...look like "Here, Bob...you shoulda bought this yourself and saved me the trouble." Nothing in between. But I guess Hallmark wouldn't make too many sentimental brownie points if they had the "Andy Rooney Line of Anniversary Cards"...

"Whatever happened to our marriage? How come you don't do anything nice for me anymore? You don't think socks just pick themselves up DO you? Oh yes...all the waitresses in the best restaurants LOVE to be reminded that you could BUY the whole bottle for the price they charge for two glasses. Class like yours only comes with age...and we've been married HOW LONG, again??"

Those Hallmark gems aren't in the aisle you'll be looking thru. You'll be finding couples who look nothing like you holding hands, hiking; in a yacht, cuddling beneath a starlit sky, and for some reason - worshipping the game of golf.

Pay attention next time you go card shopping...on the surface it looks like it's only a sea of blank faces faced with the daunting task of choosing "just the right card". But...look closely...their apparent blank gazes twitch and grimace...and do that "eye roll" thing...and if you're very quiet, you can even hear a little whimper sounding like "yeah right" spoken under their breath. And these are the people I speak to because you can always spot them...they are there, and by the third or fourth card (like that third or fourth drink)...they're willing to open up to anyone who will listen.

It's really quite disconcerting when you come to think of it -- a whole slew of people so dissatisfied with their lives, secretly confiding in someone they know they'll never see again about a topic they probably rarely ever talk to anyone else about. It's sad that they're pouring their hearts out to someone who really doesn't matter to them...about something that...really does matter.

Apparently it also matters to over 50 percent of Americans...as they wind up divorced. Many get divorced, directly or indirectly, because of sex: the lack of it, the incompatibility over it, the infidelity because of it...the list is literally endless. And the stigma attached to talking to someone in a clinical setting about it...is most likely the key factor as to why so many women are tight-lipped about it.

Except, of course, when they run across a talkative perceptive stranger in some beauty salon, TJ Maxx, the doctor's office, Fresh Market, or any store with a card aisle.



(Originally written, but not published, about three years ago.)

My Birthday

Well, my birthday has come and gone. I opted to stay home and not go out to dinner because I still was in a lot of pain from my operation. My daughter bought and wrapped me some gifts she purchased at Williams-Sonoma...pretty much anything they sell there I'd like...plus I have been known to do the "oooh I like THIS and THIS and THIS" thing a lot whenever I'm shopping with her.

She also was the one who decided getting a candle down from the cupboard, putting it on my Cheesecake Olivia from Outback Steakhouse, and lighting it would be the festive and proper thing to do. I fear no traditional "Happy Birthday" song would have been sung had she not thought of this, and I feel sad about that.

I also feel sad that my son, who is 20, didn't get me a present nor a card. He is old enough to get me something. He's claiming he didn't have enough money to get me something "really nice". I would have been happy with nearly anything.

Also, it seems the players at my interactive comedy website, don't seem to care much at all either. Must be the season to be selfish...I don't know. But free ecards ARE relatively inexpensive.

Anyway, the day is now over...I only managed to drink one Martini and it wasn't a big one at that, but I was in pain. I also do have a few gifts that will be getting here next week so that will be nice.

I also have a blog I started writing in the doctor's office the other day...so something will be posted here - probably tomorrow.

Now far be it from me to ruin a good time, so those of you who would love to send me cards, flowers, money, job offers, and incredibly gorgeous presents, please feel free to do so. There is an address you can send them to via my comedy website...and yes, it is indeed valid. I am sure it's best to err on the side of caution this time and not start holding my breath anytime soon...last year David Blaine got some wild idea in his head because of my antics. Surely no one wants to give him any more ideas. ;)