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Miss Conduct's Valentine's Day
This blog will still be a little slow on catch-up this week -- the thing about Deadlines from Hell is that once they're over, there is then the whole rest of your life to catch up on. We're out of food, bills are unpaid, the apartment is a mess, I owe calls or e-mails to several dozen people, etc., etc. It's like coming back from vacation, except a vacation is fun.
HOWEVER.
I did promise you my Valentine's Day story, so here it is:
Mr. Improbable and I rarely spend Valentine's Day together. The American Association for the Advancement of Science holds its annual meeting in mid-February, over Valentine's Day, and Mr. Improbable always goes to it to schmooze scientists and science writers, and most importantly, put on a big science-humor show on the Friday of the conference. He'll usually throw in some romance- or sex-related material into the show, in honor of the holiday, and will occasionally even remember to call me afterward.
This year, however, the meeting isn't until this coming weekend, which meant -- gasp! -- a chance for actual romantic gesture on his part, especially given that by Sunday I would have just completed the Deadline from Hell and so a nice dinner out, even some cliched red roses, would not have been out of the question.
So, Friday morning, I come upstairs and see that there are boxes of those little candy hearts sitting on my computer. (You can have your candy corn, and as far as I'm concerned, Peeps aren't food, they're craft supplies. As cheap holiday candy goes, I love me some candy hearts.)
Wow! He'd actually mastered the technique of the romantic build-up! I was impressed. Mr. Improbable is the kindest, most loving, respectful, and fun husband I could wish for, but Smoove B he is not.
So I said (noting, meanwhile, that my voice had edged up an octave or two into downright girlishness), "Honey! You gave me candy and it's not even Valentine's Day yet!"
He looked at me in confusion. "Yes it is," he said. "Valentine's Day is always on a Friday." Pause. "Oh my God, I'm such an idiot."
It was then that I realized I needed a long, long session of tension-relieving laughter much more than I needed some stupid roses, which would have looked terrible in our messy apartment anyway.
On Valentine's Day proper, we went to see "Not Enough Air" at Central Square Theater, a brilliant new play about a woman who killed her husband.
Don't tell me we don't know how to do romance right.
UPDATE: The Deadline from Hell involved going through the page proofs of a 450-page book and integrating four sets of edits into one typed document. I just now went to ceremonially throw the proofs in the recycling. Mr. Improbable stopped me--"How do you know what's in there?" Sure enough, he'd hidden a box of candy hearts inside!
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About Miss Conduct
Welcome to Miss Conduct’s blog, a place where the popular Boston Globe Magazine columnist Robin Abrahams and her readers share etiquette tips, unravel social conundrums, and gossip about social behavior in pop culture and the news. Have a question of your own? Ask Robin using this form or by emailing her at missconduct@globe.com.
Welcome to Miss Conduct’s blog, a place where the popular Boston Globe Magazine columnist Robin Abrahams and her readers share etiquette tips, unravel social conundrums, and gossip about social behavior in pop culture and the news. Have a question of your own? Ask Robin using this form or by emailing her at missconduct@globe.com.
contributor
Robin Abrahamswrites the weekly "Miss Conduct" column for The Boston Globe Magazine and is the author of Miss Conduct's Mind over Manners. Robin has a PhD in psychology from Boston University and also works as a research associate at Harvard Business School. Her column is informed by her experience as a theater publicist, organizational-change communications manager, editor, stand-up comedian, and professor of psychology and English. She lives in Cambridge with her husband Marc Abrahams, the founder of the Ig Nobel Prizes, and their socially challenged but charismatic dog, Milo.
Who is Miss Conduct?
Robin Abrahamswrites the weekly "Miss Conduct" column for The Boston Globe Magazine and is the author of Miss Conduct's Mind over Manners. Robin has a PhD in psychology from Boston University and also works as a research associate at Harvard Business School. Her column is informed by her experience as a theater publicist, organizational-change communications manager, editor, stand-up comedian, and professor of psychology and English. She lives in Cambridge with her husband Marc Abrahams, the founder of the Ig Nobel Prizes, and their socially challenged but charismatic dog, Milo.
