How to Ruin Valentine's Day

I'm not one of those tyrannical women who demands her husband must acknowledge Valentine's day by breaking the bank on diamonds or fancy hotel rooms, but neither am I one who prefers the day to pass by unnoticed in some sort of self-righteous snub toward greeting card companies and chocolate makers.

I like Valentine's Day. I like having extra reasons to tell my husband how amazing he is. Because, in case I haven't mentioned it lately, he is AMAZING. And though we generally take the low-key route for the holiday (ordering take-out for the whole family instead of heading out by ourselves, for example), we always have a lovely time. This year did not disappoint. It was wonderful.

Plus, my husband did not name a cockroach after me, which he could have paid $10 to do. Bonus points for David.

I have no idea what would possess a man to have a Madagascar hissing cockroach named after his sweetie pie. Imagine her horror when he says, "I had something named for you..." - she's thinking he's going to pull out a map of the heavens to show her her very own star - and then he hands her a picture of a disgusting roach.

Um, Happy Valentine's Day?

I don't care if the $10 donation goes to the Wildlife Conservation Society. I don't care if some lunatic out there thinks cockroaches are cute. And I don't care that the Bronx Zoo says nothing could be more romantic than naming the creepiest of crawlies after the love of your life because, "Nothing says forever like a cockroach."

These people are out of their minds.

And soon to be out of girlfriends.