Charles Bukowski & Valentine's Day

"Who would wanna be,

who would wanna be

such a control-freak?"

-Modest Mouse

Brian and I were sitting on the couch several days ago:

Me: Hey, so...you're cool with not doing Valentine's Day, right? I mean, I love you every day and I always appreciate you.

Brian: Oh yeah, I am totally fine with that.

Me: Okay--I mean, you know all that fluff doesn't mean anything to me. I just don't want for you to feel any certain way. I just like being with you. All the stuff we do together and for each other is good enough for me.

Brian: Same.

When having this conversation with Brian, though, I still felt a little guilty. It was a guilt that I could easily brush off my shoulders, though. But it's true, though. We're not a "grand-gesture" couple. I would rather he take whatever money he'd spend on roses or chocolate and put it in our adventure fund. Romance to us is cooking dinner together, which we do quite often. Romance to me is his thoughtfulness to bring my laundry up from the basement because he knows I don't like having my hands full when going up steps. Romance to him is that I kiss him goodbye before going to work while he is still in bed. Romance to me is that he is sweet and kind to my parents. Romance to him is that I do the dishes. Romance to me is that he bought me a special, extending snow scraper so that I can reach the top of my SUV. Romance to him is that his snoring doesn't bother me. Romance to me is that he doesn't give me grief for wanting to go do my own thing alone. Romance to him is that we go to bed together at the same time. Romance to us is decompressing at the end of the day to re-runs of "Family Guy", "The Office", or "Planet Earth" before falling asleep. Romance to us is that he buys the plane tickets to our adventures and I pay for the rental car, food, and campsites.

What can get better than any of that?

I took Silas to get groomed today because his birthday is on Saturday and I want for him to feel pampered, handsome, and comfortable in his fur. On the way home, I was listening to Modest Mouse and the song "Bukowski" came on. The song is about the late poet/writer, Charles Bukowski, one of my favorite poets since I was a teenager. Most people who know me may not peg me as a Bukowski-lover considering that he was a philandering alcoholic obsessed with gambling, the bottle, and wayward women.

I've read nearly all his poetry (it seems like a lot has been published posthumously) but I don't want to say that I know who he "was" as a human being because I'm well aware that there can be a chasm between narrator and author. But in his writings, Bukowski (who wrote about himself a lot or wrote stories with narrators similar to him) was a foul-mouthed bastard shoeing away women when he was done with them, preferring the company of his cat and typewriter.

Hearing Modest Mouse singing about Bukowski, asking, "Who would want to be, who would want to be such a control freak?" made me think about Valentine's Day. I couldn't help but think about how Valentine's Day (or any holiday, I suppose?) is a day that so many people lack control (but want the control). Yes, I'm about to call-out people (mostly women, because c'mon) and I'm about to sound like an ass-hole but I don't really care. Unfortunately, Valentine's Day has become such a holiday where people (primarily women) expect grand gestures from their significant other. A gesture over which they have no control. They expect or trust that their loved-one will do the romantic thing. They don't know what to expect because you know, it's supposed to be a surprise. Maybe a marriage proposal. Maybe a bouquet of roses. Maybe a new bonsai tree because she's the type who wants something that lives. Maybe some chocolates, a romantic movie, an actual thoughtful gift, something sexy, something spontaneous. I can't help but wonder how many people would take the joystick if Valentine's Day came with one.

That makes me sad. But it's also none of my business. And I'm not writing these words as a blanket-statement about all coupled people on Valentine's Day. I'm not bashing Valentine's Day, either. I love romance. I love love. I understand that meaningful traditions occur for many people. But I also understand that many people tend to hurt on this day because they're maybe forgetting about the love that happens the rest of the year.

Even though I described Bukowski as a scum-bag, he did write with a lot of passion and romance. Here is one of my favorite romantic poems from him.

Straw Hat

I would never buy one, not at my

age, and I was never a

hat man anyhow

but then

that's what wives are for:

to give you the courage to

dive into unchartered

waters.

"go on, go on in," said my

wife.

I went on into the shop and she

followed.

there were straw hats

everywhere, all colors and

sizes.

I tried on a black, walked to

the mirror, looked like a killer

and, of course, looked that

but

returned the hat

anyhow.

'here," said my wife,

"try this..."

I tried it. not

bad. then

another. not

bad.

I decided on two.

holy hell.

I liked the clerks, they were

totally

disinterested.

"should I put them in a

bag?" one of the clerks

asked.

"a box," I answered.

then

my wife came around the corner,

smiling, wearing a tall

straw hat.

she looked much better than I.

she looked

cute.

beautiful.

"get it," I

said.

"should I?"

"of course."

so we walked out of there with

our new straw

hats

and we walked them

to the car

put them

in their boxes

on the back

seat

and it was a good drive

in

under the low

clouds

like that,

nothing wrong at

all.

very strange and

totally

acceptable.

and I never would have

worn the black

anyhow.

-Charles Bukowski

And for those of you who who have been hurt or are hurting on this day, I am sorry. Here is a little passage from another favorite and beloved poet of mine, Mary Oliver. I wish you tenderness and light.

(Turns out Brian and I did get each otter cards with very nice words written to each otter in them. We both got cards with otters on them, using "otter" as a pun throughout. So sexy.)