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Ode to men on Valentine's

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Katie McCrory
The State Press

This may be the one and only time I confess this, and it physically hurts to type these words. I FEEL SORRY FOR MEN. Men don't have periods, endure childbirth, or get humiliating comments from builders, but they do have to face the torment that comes with Valentine's Day.

If our mothers have taught us girls anything, it's that men need to be told what we want. No pussy-footing around, any subtle hints will be lost amidst the roar of football and beer chugging. Thankfully we have Hallmark to thank for reminding them to get off their asses. Now we sit with bated breath to hear the flurry of pink colored mail through our letterboxes and the purr of the limo as it comes to take us away to that really posh restaurant in Scottsdale. Later that night, underneath a perfect starry night, he'll place upon our (add desired body part) the most perfect 'best friend' a girl could ever dream of. Diamonds are forever, and because he appears to be rolling in it, so is he.

Fortunately I don't believe a word of that crap. Valentine's Day was dreamt up in a heterosexual marketing boardroom where someone made the connection between girls liking flowers and men's inability to have worked that out for themselves. I would like to think any modern woman has discovered that not all men are incapable of understanding you, and any modern man has discovered we don't need material goods to make us truly happy. Yet watching them sweat it out in the jewelry department, I somehow suspect the latter isn't quite the case.

You see, the reason I feel sorry for men is that they face a barrage of conflicting messages about what you want. If he has a partner, he's expected to know your most secret desires because the two months together mean you've melded minds. If he's single then he has to know what all women want so that his fumbled declaration of "I like you a lot" doesn't get laughed at. We tell him to do something simple and from the heart, but everyone else tells him we're lying, and if we don't get a gift-wrapped Tiffany ring then we won't sleep with him. Ever.

So to lessen the trauma I reckon women should take some of the responsibility for tomorrow. Let men enjoy the day whilst you do some of the legwork. Some of my female friends are already on the case. One is taking her bloke to Vegas this weekend to see an Elvis wannabe, whilst threatening to "do a Britney." Another is mustering the courage to ask some lad she knows out for dinner. See men, we really do know the hell you go through every Feb. 14. And furthermore, believe us when we say that Valentine's doesn't have to be expensive. Words go a great deal further than you think, just be imaginative about how you say or write them.

As for me, I will be spending my evening in the hot tub with some wonderful females. My partner has to stay at UCLA to write an essay on Stalin, and although I tried to convince him that firstly, I am better looking than Stalin and secondly, my place would be more exciting than the library, I respect his decision. Girlfriends can wait, deadlines can't. Bet you won't find a Hallmark card with that on it.

Katie-Ellen McCrory is a history junior. Reach her at kathleen-ellen.mccrory@asu.edu.


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