Why Are Men So Bad at Valentine’s Day?February 14, 2009 at 7:03 am | Posted in Why Are Men So Bad at Valentine's Day? | 5 Comments
Dear Mr. Answers,
I am a woman who is pretty confident that as usual this Valentine’s Day my boyfriend will not exactly overwhelm me with gifts and shows of affection. Why are men so lousy at celebrating Valentine’s Day?—Hoping but Not Hopeful
Dear Not Hopeful,
First of all, I should tell you that my answer to your question probably won’t be especially hilarious. It’s 2 a.m. where Mr. Answers is, and right now Mr. A. is just a tad sort of delirious from exhaustion.
The problem is not that men are lousy at Valentine’s Day. The problem is that men are too good at Valentine’s Day.
You are to be forgiven, Ms. Hoping, if you have accepted as truth the common misconception that men don’t really feel as deeply as women. Nothing could be further from the truth. The reason that men on average die five years younger than women is because men feel everything so intensely that in the end the stress of having to process it all makes their heart explode.
A man in love—and every man, at most every moment of his life, is deeply in love with someone—is absolutely, instinctively convinced that no one but he has ever loved with his infinitely sublime ferocity. The emotions of a man’s love are to him so powerful, so riveting, so blinding, so passionately personal that he finds almost physically repelling the idea that they should be turned into fodder for (of all things!) commercial profit.
So to a man, Valentine’s Day is like being gutted. If Hallmark made a big red Valentine’s Day Massacre card, men would buy them like hotcakes. Because that’s pretty much what every Valentine’s Day feels like to a man.
To a woman, love (sometimes) means getting dressed up and going out with her man to a fancy restaurant.
To a man, love (always) means sitting on the couch, watching TV, and just knowing that the love between he and his woman is so deep, intense, and permanent that as far as he’s concerned the only thing talking about it can possibly do is degrade it.
And if that man is told that on a certain day he has to act just like every other man, and do exactly what he’s supposed to do, which is to essentially prove his love—or, worse, display his love—in the exact same way that every other man in the world is displaying his love?
Forget it. Instead of a cute little Cupid arrow, you might as well spear him through the heart with an Actual Crossbow.
Mr. Answers would like to say more on this matter, but before he passes out he wants to arrange into an enticing display a dozen red roses, some chocolates, and a bottle of Mumm’s champagne.
When it comes to matters of the heart, Mr. Answers is as dense as any other man. But he hasn’t been married for 28 years for nothing.
Related post o’ mine (written last Valentine’s Day): Love is a Many Splinterd Thing.