No, Valentine’s Day is not pulling a Ke$ha.
I use the dollar symbol because I’m pretty sure Scott spent more money this year than the last nine Valentine’s Days combined.
Yup, this guy’s been my Valentine for almost a decade. I’m pretty lucky.
That caption refers to the coffee, by the way. The husband is average height, blonde and middle class. Just the way I like him.
So how did a guy from such bourgeois roots find himself spending $695 on a pair of shoes for your’s truly?
It’s kind of a long story.
On Valentine’$ Eve, Scott drove down to Acme Comedy Club in the Minneapolis Warehouse district to perform at an open mic night.
I’ve gone down to the show with him the last two weeks, but opted to stay home in order to tend to more important manners.
Yes, getting my nails done is an important manner.
It was no surprise the topic of Valentine’$ Day came up at the salon. Mostly because at pretty much any nail salon, the first thing they ask about is your husband or boyfriend.
My conversation with Da at Foxy Nails was no exception.
Da: You have husband?
Da: How long you been married?
Me: Almost five years.
Da: Wow. He get you something nice for Valentine’s Day?
Me: Probably not. I don’t know…I asked for some shoes, but I’m sure he’ll just forget.
Da: No. I think he get you a huge diamond.
Me: Heh. Yeah, that would be nice. Honesty though, he’ll probably just forget. He’s kind of that way.
Da: Oh, no. Don’t worry — he get you big diamond. You have baby?
Da: Really? Five years and no baby? How come?
Me: I don’t really want a baby. At least not for a while.
Da: Why you don’t want baby?
Me: I don’t know…just not ready yet, I guess. I don’t think my husband wants one for a while either.
Da: What? No way. You need baby.
Me: Maybe someday. Just not for a few years.
Da: I think he give you a baby tomorrow, for Valentine’s Day.
Me: Ha! No, I don’t think so.
Da: Yes. I think so. He love you. You going to dinner tomorrow?
Da: After dinner, he give you a baby. I know it.
Da: No diamond. Baby instead.
Me: I’d rather have the diamond, actually.
Da: No. Baby much better than diamond.
Me: I don’t know. I’m pretty sure he’s not…um….giving me a baby.
Da: Yes he will. He love you. He give you baby for Valentine’s Day.
At this point I just decided to agree with her in order to end the conversation.
I’m still not sure if she meant that he was going to scrounge up a baby at the last-minute, slap a bow on its diaper, and present it to me, or if she was implying that he would literally impregnate me after dinner.
To tell you the truth, I’m highly uncomfortable with either one of those scenarios.
I’m also fairly certain both my mother and mother-in-law called the nail salon prior to my arrival in order to bribe Da into convincing me that what I really wanted for Valentine’$ Day was a baby.
Let me be perfectly clear.
I do not want a baby.
I want these babies.
I’ve had my eyes on the black Tory Burch Reva flats for some time now. Despite dropping many a not-so-subtle hint to Mr. Taylor, I had lost all hope. There was no way my frugal spouse was going to drop $195 on a pair of lightweight shoes.
Little did I know that while I was busy trying not to get pregnant at the nail salon, Scott had been turned away from the Acme open mic. They have over seventy comedians show up each week and only 20 spots. Instead of driving down to the cities for nothing, Scott decided to make yet another pilgrimage to the Mall of America Nordstrom.
Guess what he decided to buy his lovely wife?
So how did a $195 pair of flats turn into a $695 pair of flats?
This happened on the way home.
Sure, the $500 deductible sucks, but I’m just happy I got my shoes.
Uh…I mean…I’m just happy my husband is OK.
But seriously, back to the shoes.
I’ve been staring at my happy little feet all day. I’m pretty sure there was an intense 30 minutes of uninterrupted shoe gazing on the drive to Small Town yesterday.
Scott, after nine years of Valentine’$ gift giving, you finally hit one out of the park.
Now you just need to work on your delivery.
Yes. Definitely need to work on your delivery.
And possibly your driving.