Help, I’m caught in a rose overdose


Sunipa Herbert is hoping to start a mini revolution against Valentine’s Day

February 14 is the day of Saint Valentine, the patron saint of love. His sacrifice had him executed but not before he wrote his love a farewell letter signed “Your Valentine”. Somewhere along the way Mr Cupid, if I may call him so, dethroned the Saint. His bow and arrow, laced with a magical love potion, serendipitously did the trick for lovers. Love has always been the by product when Mr Cupid takes aim. In response, his devotees bestow lavish gifts of chocolates, red roses and perfumes on the ones they are starry eyed about.

Mr Cupid’s partner in crime—Commercial Hype—beating the totem drums of material niceties induce lovers to celebrate love in all shapes and sizes. The hype starts soon after the Christmas decorations are taken down in homes and retail malls.

What was on this year’s Lust List? This is a question that is asked of me by the MOTH (man of the house) a week before D-(V)-day, every year, year after year. My response is inversely proportional to the time I am married to him. I realise that the longer we are married, the shorter is my ‘grief’. Yes, grief that I am not on the top of the list, am not numero uno or the remote control of his life.

Let me explain. Time and pressure makes a diamond. The first year of married life Mr Cupid buzzes around like a bee to honey. He is always on call, his quiver filled with arrows of marital delight. “Buzz… darling… buzz… honey… love you… buzz buzz.”

As the wheels of time spin around, the partnership of Mr Cupid and Commercial Hype start to show stains of lethargy. The candle-lit dinner dates, perfumes, chocolates, movie outings give way to flowers, flowers and more flowers. If you think I am being critical, please think again. I am ever so grateful that the gorgeous bunch of red roses from Roses Only have given way to a bunch of roses from Woolies (period!). No added frills or thrills.

Am I grieving for the frills and thrills to return to its heyday? Have I become a has-been in the world of Saint Valentine? The answer is, as mentioned before, directly proportional to the number of married years I have tucked under my belt.

When I first met the MOTH I had one portfolio, ie, that of a Friend and Lover. I soon got promoted to Wife and Mother. This gave way to Housekeeper, Gardener, Chef, Teacher, Sports Instructor, Career Woman, Planner, Strategist, Designer, Jewellery maker and Chief Whinger. Are my matured portfolios at least worth a bottle of perfume? Am I not worth a single rose? Has this fine-tuned and multi-faceted woman been taken for granted? The answer to all this is R&R—Remove and Replace (not rest and recreation).

This recalcitrant being is now hoping to start a revolution, a mini revolution. All women with over five portfolios should opt for R&R (Remove and Replace) giving up expectations of receiving flowers, chocolates and carefree dinner dates on Valentine’s Day (sorry Saint V!).

Ladies please give the next generation a chance. You heard me, remove all minor irritants of psychological trauma so Mr Cupid can go and appease the fragile lasses, a bit like Santa visiting all the kids around the world on Christmas Eve. No child of developed countries should ever be without a present. Have you ever thought what an uphill task Mr Cupid has with no elves or reindeer to help on Valentine’s day? He has to spin his web of love while taking aim with his arrow every time. Every young lovelorn lad needs a romantic lass so let us give Mr Cupid a chance rather than leave it up to Tinder. Then let the MOTHS be drawn to their television sets to watch the last few overs of their favourite cricket team.

Who needs Valentine’s Day and roses anyway? Sixty years of marital bliss entitle this revolutionary to a diamond ring.


Spread the love and Earn Tokens