In two weeks’ time the next retail money-making racket will accost our anorexic wallets, much too soon after the festive season budget spending disorder.

Valentine’s Day!

Like all good causes, Valentine’s Day started out as a noble endeavour.

The 8th-century Gelasian Sacramentary recorded the celebration of the Feast of Saint Valentine on February 14. The day became associated with romantic love in the 14th and 15th centuries when notions of courtly love flourished, apparently by association with the “lovebirds” of early spring.

All well and good.

But in my opinion it has become warped. There is no lovebird equality, rather a one-sided women appeasment affair.

The men are the ones scurrying about in torturous shopping expeditions to source overpriced flowers, cheesy red heart-shaped chocolate boxes (yes, overpriced) and all sorts of expensive gifts.

The relentless onslaught on Captain America’s credit card and resolve persists as the day draws to a close.

Armpits perfumed, the hero of the day have to dress up to Armani standards and treat his lovely ladybird to an extravagant fine dining excursion of epic proportions.

And so on.

Granted, a day of attentive pampering is a good way to raise the shares again and likely end with a delightful reward from his little cupcake.

But for the sake of fairness, I think agitating for a second Valentine’s Day exclusively for the men folk is in order. A role reversal if you will.

To differentiate the love fest days, a name change would be in order, something like Ballentine’s Day.

Wives and girlfriends need not fret. Unlike “their” demanding day, it will be a breeze. Bringing happiness to the male body (outside of the reward system) is surprisingly simple.

The recipe:

* Start the day with a hearty, unhealthy artery-blocking brekkie with extra eggs, heaps of bacon, sausages and “plankie” steak strips, and as many toast slices and jam as he wants. No sissy fruit juice or champagne flutes to wash it all down. Place his favourite hardcore brew on the side. All excessive indulgences are allowed, even encouraged. (Tip: Ensure beforehand that all life policies are paid up. You never know).

* Post the cholesterol cramming session, inform Superman (subtly stress this moniker now and then) there are no expectations on this day to mow the lawn, fix the leaking taps or wonky cupboards and such. Golfing or biking with his buds won’t attract cold shoulder repercussions of any kind.

* For lunch, create more contentment by chucking the repulsive health-enhancing Mediterranean salad infused menu. Replace with wholesome “braaibroojies” with an assortment of meaty fillings and his favourite brewskis.

* Thereafter park him on the couch for the afternoon’s telly rugby slouching with bowls of biltong, droë wors, chips and more brewskis. (Some more muttering of “my hero” or such will enhance the feeling of bonhomie).

* Take charge of the evening braai and serve more brewskis, accepting his non-stop critical braai instructions from the peanut gallery with aplomb. (Did you remember to check the life policies?).

That’s it! No gifts, no flowers (certainly no flowers).

And most likely you’ll also be rewarded – a cholesterol supercharged Rambo passed out and snoring contently on the telly couch and leaving you in peace.

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