I hear that there are men out there who not only remember their sweetie's birthday, heck they even manage to find the perfect gift.

I think we can all agree that These Men Are Freaks of Nature, and the less said about them the better.

Having known the spousal unit since I was 19, I have come to terms with the fact that not only will he forget the exact date of my birthday, heck, he won't have clue one about what to give me. He shines at our anniversary and at Christmas, but falls flat on his face when it comes to the birthday.

Thus (and I think we can all agree that the word "thus" is grossly underused today) thus, I am resigned to the fact that about a week before my Special Day I will have to begin dropping the hints and the reminders. I try not to be bitter. No. Really. I do.

Tomorrow being my birthday, this year's campaign began last Wednesday. I stood beside my new lilacs. I mentioned that the white and the pale pink are a lovely combination and wouldn't one of those rich, dark purple French lilacs look simply wonderful with them?

The WHOOSH as that hint rocketed right over his head was pretty much audible on the other side of the valley.

Fine.

I gave it a day to percolate, hoping that it might have sunk in subliminally.

Two days later I tried again. We were both admiring the perfume of my white lilac which is now pretty much in full bloom. "I hear that dark purple French lilac, Charles Joly, has perfume to die for," I said, said I.

The WHOOSH as that hint rocketed right over his head was pretty much audible on the other side of the valley.

Fine.

I gave it a day to percolate, hoping that it might have sunk in subliminally.

Oh, be quiet.

It could happen.

Two days later the flyer for a local plant nursery came in. They were having a lilac sale.

I have my needs. I faced reality head on.

"OH LOOK THEY HAVE THAT CHARLES JOLY LILAC I'VE WANTED FOREVER ON SALE! LOOK! ISN'T IT WONDERFUL?" I said at a decibel level that matched the whoosh of the previous hints rocketing over his head.

I could see the glimmer in his eyes. The wheels were turning. Connections Were Being Made.

Our eyes met tenderly.

He Knew.

Then he handed me some money.

"You'd better go buy it. I wouldn't know what to look for in a lilac."

So yesterday I went out and bought my own birthday gift.

Who says romance is dead?

--Marn