It’s unlikely I would have realized that Saturday was Sweetest Day had my grocery store not plastered posters announcing the "holiday" over the "enter" sign on the automatic door.
I noticed, and honestly, very quickly forgot.
Sweetest Day is bullshit, right? Few self-respecting women will deny that it’s a holiday fabricated to serve the purposes of Hallmark and other evil greeting card/flower shop/candy empires. I mean... seriously, I’m not even a fan of Valentine’s Day, but at least, that’s – you know – arguably semi-legit.
On Saturday night MM came over after work to hang out and watch the latest episode of The Office, which I had Tivo-ed.
He immediately sat down on the couch and looked at me.
“Happy Sweetest Day,” he said with a hint of sheepishness.
“Uh... Thanks.” I said.
He continued, “I don’t really get into this Sweetest Day stuff. I kind of think it’s crap…”
“I totally agree. It’s a ridiculously unnecessary holiday. Don't worry. I wasn't expecting anything,” I said.
“Oh… oh good. Well… I got you a banana.”
“You got me a banana for Sweetest Day?”
“Yeah. Well, I figured if you cared about Sweetest Day, I would have at least gotten you something, but I still wouldn't have given in to the commercial holiday.”
“You’re lucky I don’t care about Sweetest Day.”
Now there’s a banana on my coffee table.
Oddly enough, this reminded me of something I once read.