Buffalo Gal
Judi Griggs

I'm a communications professional, writer, cynic, mother, wife and royal pain. The order depends on the day. I returned to my hometown in November 2004 after a couple of decades of heat and hurricanes. I can polish pristine copy, but not here. This is my morning exercise -- 20-minute takes without a net or spellcheck. It's easier than sit ups for me. No guarantee what it will be for you. Clicking on the subscribe link will send you an email notice when each new entry is posted.
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Venus and Mars collision day

I have no problem with greeting card companies exploiting our guilt and laying a couple of pseudo-holidays at the feet of Mom and Dad.
But does a short month, already rich with Presidents Day, need an excuse to accelerate the Battle of the Sexes?
Millions of dollars have been wasted on studies which demonstrate specifically that women talk more than men and women talk about feelings more than men. That money would be better spent on post "holiday" therapy.
Charlie invited me to his place for our first Feb. 14th. I came to the door in the hottest red dress I could find and red high heels. He answered it in sweats. He was, no exaggeration here, watching John Wayne in "The Quiet Man" and went right back to the living room. It was only during a commercial break that he commented on my dress - to ask if I was going somewhere else afterwards.
He wasn't being deliberately cruel.
His invitation was framed perfectly in his mind - old movies and pizza on a Wednesday night. Which came out "why don't you come over tonight?"
I heard "We've been seeing each other for a little while now and there is no one I'd rather spend Valentines' Day with, so lets make it special."
I was only grateful I had left his gift in the car as it might have become a weapon.
Flash forward 11 years. We went to the Philharmonic Valentines' Pops concert on Saturday and out to eat at my new favorite restaurant. Warm fireplaces, wonderful wines, big fluffy snowflakes against the city sky as we walked back to the car-- a beautiful night a long way from mismatched sweats and John Wayne.
The red heels are still in the closet, boots work better this time of year. I got the concert tickets and suggested the restaurant. But we've found a place between romantic fantasy and reality that works.
(But let's be clear -- I would not turn my nose up at romantic fantasy if it happened to fall in front of the red heels).
I know another couple, together even longer than Charlie and I. While I only know her side of the story, it seems she adores him and they are absurdly compatible. Yet she is so starved to hear him say something "romantic" she wrote and rewrote an email to him this weekend asking for a Valentines' gift of an email in return stating his feelings.
A juvenile act for woman who remembers where she was when JFK was shot? My guess is that most women would say no and more than a few guys would say yes.
She checked her email for a response 40 times yesterday with anticipation growing each time.
When it came, he found her request childish and insulting to their relationship, but was willing to write it off to her having a bad day.
Admit it, if you are a female reader you are grimacing for her right now.
Without CPR, the relationship will be dead before the "holiday" actually arrives. No smoking gun. No bad guy or gal - just a needs gap too wide to jump.
My older daughter is so deliriously happy with her boyfriend and their anticipated engagement that her emails about him seem to glow on the screen.
It's enough to make one believe in the transformational power of Venus, hearts, flowers and moonlight.
It would be cruel to remind her at this point that it's likely there will be some John Wayne days along the way.
That's what Valentines' Day is for...



Copyright 2007 Judi Griggs


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