This V-Day, Give the Gift of Demanding Gifts

by jillst

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Around this time every year some dumb meme that goes around that’s all “sure, your girlfriend says she doesn’t want anything for Valentine’s Day, but if you don’t get her something SHE WILL CUT OFF YOUR BALLS WHILE YOU SLEEP.”

My husband thinks this meme is hilarious, despite the fact that every year I literally thank him for not getting me anything for Valentine’s Day, because I hate it and it sucks.

So I CUT OFF HIS BALLS IN HIS SLEEP.

Just kidding – I like to keep that one up my sleeve to curb future bad behaviour. Also, it’s true that over my time as a human being, I have met an inordinate amount of women (including my past self) who seem to think they can just expect their partners to read their minds regarding how they expect to celebrate special occasions. These partners, they feel, should automatically know what they are thinking and feeling, even when what they are thinking and feeling is the precise opposite of what is coming out of their mouths.

They don’t think they should have to spell out what they expect from the special someone in their lives, because a) they have watched too many romantic comedies, and thus feel that all men should be able to read their minds in the way a 45-year old female writer can; and b) they feel that sharing their expectations honestly will make them appear ‘crazy’.

Instead, they end up drunk texting their friends sentences like: “I shouldn’t have to tell him that my birthday celebration needed to involve skywriting, he should just know,” which is not exactly the definition of non-insanity, at least as I understand it.

Now fellow women-folk, before you begin listing the myriad and offensive things men do to us, let me just say that I know. I get it. The men who date us are 98% minor scumbags and 2% token bi guys with amazing hair who end up married to hot gay dudes who wear a lot of fake tan. It may not be backed up by Census data, but you and I both know it to be true.*

But, let’s be real, we are none of us A+ sanity central all the time. Certainly, I am not. If my husband gets a Snapchat after midnight from a woman, I become immediately and completely convinced it is of some girl’s tits; even if the message has also been sent to me, and even though all the times I have given in to my lesser judgement and opened one of his Snapchats, it has been a lame joke about shared alcoholism. As a recovering cool girl, I fight the good fight daily to steer myself away from that tired lady-trope of “it’s fine” before I end up on that bumpy road of un-fine thinly veiled frustration that usually ends in at least minimal random crying and maximum man-regret and confusion.

The fact is that we have all been socialised to think we can’t ask for stuff, and that men should be perfect knights in shining armour who can instead predict what we want every second of every day. Somehow, we figured out that men are at best occasionally dumb dumbs and at worst the straight up worst; but we haven’t made the leap to, “oh, well guess I’d better spell shit out for you then.”

And guess who ends up crying and sending insane texts? Umm, that would be us, ladies. Your man is sleeping soundly, dreaming of Snapchat boobs.**

Frankly, this inclination we all have is ridiculous, because men are basically never afraid to ask for anything they need ever. If your man was only attracted to girls wearing inflatable T-Rex outfits, he would have brought one along for you to wear on your first date.

So, this year I propose a movement. There is no march, and you don’t have to think up a pun about Donald Trump. You just gave to tell your partner, straight up, exactly and everything you want for Valentine’s Day.

Yes. Everything. Even the things that they “should just know.”

If you, like me, genuinely do feel no real joy about V-Day and the only thing you want is to inwardly mock others for their slave-like devotion to capitalism, then by all means say nothing and receive nothing. But don’t think that makes you any better than anyone else, because it doesn’t. You have your own crazy, babe. We all of us do.

Better to be the girl who approaches her partner a few days beforehand, takes his or her hand, looks into his or her eyes and says  “babe, if you don’t get me a card and a single red rose and then take a cute picture of us and post it on your Insta while pretending like you did it of your own accord, I will leave you for that guy who’s always posting inappropriate comments on my half-naked selfies.”

After that, please feel free to fist pump the air like that greasy-haired rapey kid in the Breakfast Club.

Then, you wait.

And if your partner doesn’t follow through, feel free to CUT OFF HIS BALLS IN HIS SLEEP.

*If you are someone who dates women then the general premise still applies, although you may have to do some pronoun shifting. I assume that y’all are pretty much experts at digesting media by ignorant straight people by this point, so I doubt you’ll have much trouble.

**And then maybe getting yelled at by you briefly. But then back to sleeping.

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