Friday, February 13, 2009

My Crap-Ass Valentine

By Helen E. H. Madden

I am a crap-ass Valentine, by which I mean I suck big time at the whole "get a card, buy a gift for my sweetie" thing. And this year is proving to be no exception. By the time you read this, I will be in my car, hauling ass to Timonium, Maryland, for the Farpoint science fiction convention, where I will be pimping my new book, Future Perfect, from Logical Lust Publications. And of course, the book is being released on Valentine's Day, so buy a copy for your sweetie!

As for my sweetie, my dearest darling husband, what will I be getting him for Valentine's Day? How about a three-day weekend of non-stop fun with our two kids, all expenses paid! Um, expenses paid by him, I should say. Yes, folks, that man of mine will be overjoyed to spend 72 hours straight with the Princess of Pink and Destructo-Pixie (better known as Child #1 and Child #2). He will enjoy HOURS of Disney princess movies, tea parties, crayoning on the walls, fights over which Barbie belongs to which child, and non-stop whining over My Little Pony underpants. Meanwhile, I will be hob-nobbing with these guys, discussing the finer points of science fiction and fantasy literature and movies (plus maybe having a conversation or two about erotica and my new book).

I so suck at Valentine's Day.

And this suckage is not just limited to February 14th. I also suck at my husband's birthday (I gave him a pack of AAA batteries one year), our wedding anniversary (pot-holders make an excellent gift for the man you love - not!), and Father's Day (I gave birth to his demonic offspring!! What more does this man want?!). It doesn't help that all three of these events fall within the same two weeks in June.

Why do I suck at this sort of thing? I love my husband, really, I do! But I'm just not a romantic sort of gal. I don't get the whole frilly, frou-frou flowers and chocolates gig that comes with Valentine's Day. Well okay, I DO get the chocolates. How could anyone not want chocolate? But the whole idea of romance? Eh, it doesn't make much sense to me.

When we were dating, I didn't woo my husband so much as I clubbed him over the head, dragged him back to my dorm room and then screwed him senseless seven times in one night. And when we got engaged, I didn't get all teary-eyed over the fact that he got down on one knee to propose -- I fell asleep (in my defense, he did propose at 3AM and I had been up 22 hours straight by that point).

I'm an erotica writer, so you'd think I would at least pull off another all night lust-fest on these days of romantic import, but alas my burgeoning career (BUY MY BOOK!! PLEASE!!), parental duties (I swear, those kids really are demon spawn!), and extreme schedule (I'll sleep when I'm dead), have taken a slight toll on that aspect of our marriage.

It's sad, ain't it? Over the last 19 years, my husband has held my hand, fixed my computer, driven me to the emergency room six times, held a bucket for me to puke in, and done numerous other countless things to let me know he loves me. And how am I showing my love for him in return this upcoming weekend?

Well, I did dedicate the new book to him. It says...

To Michael, because you can't buy good tech support, you gotta sleep with it and bear its children.

There now, isn't that romantic?

Okay, maybe there's still time for me to get him an iTunes gift card...



  1. Your posts crack me up, Helen. I love the dedication on your book, and your writing style in general. Going to have to check out your books.

    Have a great weekend!


  2. Seven times in one night?


    I think that would have gotten me too. That would have gotten me by the balls, literally.

    Sometimes I'd like to get William Shakespeare and kick his ass over this whole bitter notion of romantic love he foisted on us. A guy who holds the bucket when you get sick, and watches the kids when you get out there to flog that book - if that isn't love what is?


  3. Helen, this was wonderful. 7 times in one night... that's pretty awesome. Someone must have been horny. LOL

    You know, hubby and I aren't what you'd call a romantic kinda couple either. We both try, and I really have no idea why we do try so hard, but we do. We do hold hands, okay, so I'm nearly blind sometimes and if we don't I'd wander off, but it's a nice thing to do. We've both forgotten our anniversary over the years, had birthday boo boos that now we can laugh at.. I mean who buys their wife a rifle, right? Specially when she doesn't know one end from the other. It goes both ways too, I've bought him some memorable gifts that are pretty damn forgettable.

    But, I will always remember the Christmas we had a houseful of dinner guests. I'd been up for nearly 2 days with sick kids and I literally fell asleep when dinner had been served. My sweety took it in stride and entertained, and then he actually cleaned up the kitchen/dining room and did the dishes. Now that means more to me than a dozen dozen red roses.

    This year, I am making an effort to do the Valentine's Day deed. An outside event brought home how lucky I am to have my fella and I choose to make this a special day for us both. It won't be the traditional flowers/chocolates and romantic times, but it will be special for us.

    Hey, give your Michael a call and talk dirty to him. *G* If he asks who it is, make up a name. LOL

    Wonderful post, Helen.


  4. I dont' know how insightful this is, but I loved the post. I laughed out loud at the picture of you clubbing the poor guy over the head and dragging him back to your room to ravish him.

    Happy Valentines Day!

  5. Helen, sorry I'm late to the party, but glad I came in time to read your hysterical post. It would be interesting to have a column from your husband's perspective.

    Looking forward to your book.


  6. Hello, Helen,

    I'm sure that Michael feels lucky to have you. Hey, he could have one of those wimpy romance heroines instead!

    You are incredibly funny though - even funnier because there's a great deal of truth behind all your wise-cracks.

    And you know, given what can happen in dreams, and your crazy imagination, maybe your kiddies really ARE demon-spawn!

    Thanks for a great post.


  7. Helen,

    You kill me!

    What was he, 18? They can be pretty entertaining when they're young.

    One day, we really must meet.

    D. L. King