Dear Luv Doc,
The last time my husband remembered to do something for me for Valentine’s Day was … wait for it … 2021. He remembered that year because we were sheltering in place/cocooning(?) due to COVID and Valentine’s Day was all over the news because the next day we were supposed to get a huge cold front (remember Snowmageddon? Yes, THAT one). So, after covering all the hose spigots he drove to Home Slice and picked up a pizza that we shared on our last warm night in our house for the next seven days. Since then, he has forgotten Valentine’s Day every single year. It’s crazy, I know, and if you’re wondering, yes, I drop hints every year, but he gets too busy with work and forgets, so we are always scrambling to go to some low-rent restaurant at the last minute. This year I am writing to you in the hope that you can offer some advice on how to make my husband show his wife a little romantic appreciation … but also … to be completely honest … I’m hoping that he sees this in the Chronicle and realizes it’s about him. Maybe then he might remember Valentine’s Day this year. He might be forgetful, but he rarely forgets to read The Luv Doc.
– Last-Minute Valentine
I can understand your frustration, but this is an insanely diabolical gambit with little to no chance of success. Not only will your missive not hit newsstands until Thursday, Feb. 13, there are probably … well … easily a thousand husbands who fit this description. And look, I am aware that figure is very likely a hubristic overestimation of my devoted readers – which probably tops out in the double digits, but I also know there are a lot of people just like your husband. If you walk up to them at work at 4:45pm on Feb. 14 and say, “Guess what? Did you know it’s Valentine’s Day?” They will say, “Oh, fuck me!” and then race over to H-E-B to rifle through the hammered dregs of the floral department. No dis to H-E-B, mind you. Their flower arrangers make a heroic effort, but a delicate bouquet of freshly cut roses is no match for the desperate, grabby hands of people who show up after 5pm on Valentine’s Day. They might as well be snatching rice bags off the back of Oxfam trucks. I get it though. Coming home with a giant, heart-shaped helium balloon and a tube of Ferrero Rocher is a walk of shame no one should have to endure. It sure beats coming home with nothing but a lame excuse though, doesn’t it?
And truly, can your husband ever possibly outdo his pre-Snowmageddon pizza party? Unlikely.
Because taking your Valentine’s date to the restaurant owned by a Nazi’s brother is way worse than forgetting Valentine’s Day altogether.
He is probably feeling an intense amount of pressure to ramp it up. Do you even realize the amount of commitment and endurance it would take to get a table at Home Slice on a Friday night? A Friday night that also happens to be Valentine’s Day? That’s like trying to pass commonsense gun control legislation. It simply can’t be done. Truly, your best hope is another Snowmageddon. Other than the Jack in the Box drive-through, the only place in Austin that won’t be lousy with lovebirds Valentine’s night is the Kitchen … no, I’m not talking about your kitchen, I’m talking about the restaurant owned by Elon Musk’s brother, located at 400 W. Sixth Street. You know why? Because taking your Valentine’s date to the restaurant owned by a Nazi’s brother is way worse than forgetting Valentine’s Day altogether. And look, I get it. Kimbal may not actually have known his brother is a Nazi, otherwise he might have opened a restaurant in Buenos Aires. Sometimes though, despite all the goodness in your heart, your brother turns out to be an enormous douchebag and you have to suffer the consequences. In fact, that’s probably just one of the reasons Paula Hitler never opened a bakery.
Now, I know it may seem like I’m obliquely recommending the Kitchen as a possible last-minute Valentine’s date location. I’m not. I’m just saying that, by the time your husband reads this column, your choices will already be – like the IQ of our president – extremely limited, so if you end up dining on Jack in the Box mini tacos on Valentine’s night, just remember you’re partly to blame. Besides, who told you your husband has to be the one to make Valentine’s plans? The patriarchy? Those dudes have a blissfully short memory, don’t they?
This article appears in February 14 • 2025.
