A Weekly Column
By Joseph Walker
Valentine Hearts and Hippos
It wasnít that I didnít like Cindy. I liked her a lot.
I blame our romantic impasse on the inherent inequities of societyís infrastructure: she lived on the hill, I did not. There was also the problem of peer pressure (most of my buddies still thought girls had fleas). Age was also an issue (we were both 12). Oh, and then there was the background thing (I weighed almost 200 pounds at the time, which made my "background" about twice the size of a normal sixth graderís).
Whatever the reason, our love seemed ill-fated, unrequited and, to be perfectly honest, one-sided. Oh, sure, Cindy paid a little attention to me once in a while Ė like the time she shoved me on the playground and I fell and sprained my wrist. Iíll never forget how she stood above me, looking at me as I tearfully knelt where she had pushed me. I was trying to decide if it was more cool to act tough or to play the pain to the hilt. Before I could do anything, she laughed and ran away with her friends.
But the important thing, as far as I was concerned, was that she pushed me. Which meant that she had actually touched me. And then she had actually looked at me. Life was good.
As Valentineís Day approached I began fretting about how to make the day special for Cindy Ė and for me. I bought three boxes of Valentines in search of the right sentiment: not too obvious (in case it fell into the wrong hands), and yet not too subtle, either. I mean, if youíre going to take your shot, what better day to take it than Valentineís Day?
Finally I found the perfect card. It had a picture
of two cute little hippos Ė one boy and one girl Ė and it said: "Valentine,
youíre the greatest!" Just right. I carefully
signed the back: "Love, Joe." Then I quickly added "
When the big day arrived I hurried off to school a half-hour early. I was the first one in the classroom and the first to deposit cards in the special Valentine boxes we had made the previous day in art. When Cindy came in she peeked in her box and saw my envelope inside. She reached in and took it in her hands. I trembled with anticipation. This was the moment for which I had been waiting, when she would read my declaration of love, look up at me and say . . .
"Drop dead, Joe!"
It wasnít exactly the response I had in mind. I looked at her blankly.
"Oh, donít act so innocent," she fumed. "You think Iím a big fat ugly hippo like you! Thanks a lot!"
"But Cindy . . . no, that isnít . . . I mean . . ."
"Donít ever talk to me again!" she wailed, crumpling the card into a multi-colored ball and throwing it at me as she ran out of the room, tears streaming down her cheeks.
I learned a few things about loving communication that Valentineís Day. I learned that if youíve got something important to say to a loved one you need to say it clearly enough that you cannot be misunderstood. I learned the Five Cís of Successful Relationships: Candy Canít Compensate for Crummy Communication. And I learned that while it may be true that you can "say it with flowers," you canít expect to be able to say it with other stuff.
Especially not hippos.
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Look for Joe's book, "How Can You Mend a Broken Spleen? Home Remedies for an Ailing World." It is available on-line through www.Amazon.com.