Love muffin

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner.

Romantic gestures of love are planned. Flowers ordered. Reservations made. So sweet, but I’m confident my beloved Carpenter won’t participate in any of these traditions this year.

Full disclosure: I might be the problem.

One innocent remark, said honestly, supported by valid reasoning, and it all goes sideways. It’s like Pat Benatar said: love is a battlefield.

Ironically, the conversation happened while I was whipping up a batch of the Carpenter’s favourite banana muffins, from scratch, no less.

That’s right, I was baking for him. Me. Baking. For him (insert applause).

As I stirred and poured the batter into the muffin tin, I did so with an intention of love, so they’d taste even better. That’s nice, right? Love muffins for my love muffin.

I was thinking what an amazing spouse I am, truly, because not only was I making my man muffins from scratch, but I had also planned dinner, and for bonus points, a light lunch too. For those of you counting, that’s three home-cooked treats in one day (she says, taking a bow). Wow, I am just that good, I surmised.

The Carpenter was cleaning the floors in the adjoining room and doing a fabulous job. He deserved muffins. No question.

We had the radio on. The DJ was playing a retro set, which is perfect for a retro couple. Bon Jovi came over the airwaves with the love ballad, Always. I’m not a fan.

Here’s the Coles Notes version of the song: guy does something bad. Woman leaves him for another man. Guy regrets whatever he did to lose woman. He declares he will love her always. It’s a tragic tale of not appreciating what you have until it’s gone.

“Have you ever realized just how melodramatic this song is?” I asked.

The Carpenter looked at me, quizzically.

“Did you hear the first line of the song?” I asked.

“It says, ‘This Romeo is bleeding, but you can’t see his blood?’ Seriously? Shakespeare is rolling in his grave knowing this lyric exists. I laughed.

“Or how about in the chorus when he says, with regret, ‘I would die for you’? As if.”

The Carpenter, perplexed by my offence, suggested when I write a hit song of my own, my opinion will carry more weight.

Oh, it was going to be that kind of day, was it? Perhaps I should have added a dash of cayenne pepper to my muffins.

“Look, I love you,” I said, sliding the muffin tin into the hot oven and closing the door. “But to be clear, I’m confident I would not die for you. I mean, I’d fake a cramp, maybe pull a hamstring for you, if you were in a jam. I’d tackle anyone who tackles you or pull you back if you step off the curb into traffic.

“But die for you? That’s a bit much. It’s so permanent, you know? It’s final. That’s a big commitment, and being married to you is enough, am I right?”

The Carpenter’s expression said it all.

“Cold. That’s just cold.”

So, happy Valentine’s Day to everyone celebrating. Tip: keep Bon Jovi out of it. Trust me.

WriteOut of Her Mind