Don’t let the title fool you – this post is no homosexual slur. Rather, I need to state a simple fact: it’s impossible to find a greeting card that doesn’t make you want to go the way of
Officer June Lo.
How can any man feel good about himself when buying a greeting card? I realize that cards should appeal to the givee, but shouldn’t they also serve as expressions of the men who buy and give them? I don’t know too many guys who need to express their love – and I’m talking about genuine love here – with a six by nine card printed on pink paper, with a pink bow, lavender scent and an 18-line sonnet. Am I wrong, or is that a bit much?
I’m sure there is a market for the overly flamboyant card because there must be some women who appreciate (expect?) such a ridiculous gesture. But I know I’m not the only man sick of the choices (or lack thereof) that are out there.
This issue was brought to a point for me this week as I searched for a birthday card for my mom. Now I know that my mom *expects* a card from me – no gift, just a card. Simple, right? But here’s the thing: my mom doesn’t want or care about what poem
Hallmark has written inside – she won’t read the print or acknowledge the embellishments. The card is important to my mom because of what I write and what that means to her.
So what are my choices? Well, the only cards in the “Birthday, Mother” section under $4.99 are a six-fold monstrosity with a pop-up lace heart or another containing a 250-word essay on the importance of mothers. If I wanted to step up to the $7.99 plateau, I could have purchased an oversized card with rhinestones…and who doesn’t love rhinestones? They’re the international pseudo-stone of birthday well-wishing. Am I the only one who thinks $7.99 is a bit excessive for a birthday card? Apparently I must be; there were more cards priced over six dollars than under three.
I soon found the store’s only other “Happy Birthday Mom” cards in the so-called Humor section – “so-called” because all of the “jokes” were spin offs of the old you’re-so-old-we-have-to-use-a-fire-extinguisher-to-blow-out-all-the-candles-on-your-cake gag. Yeesh. Obviously, these cards weren’t right for me, nor were they right for my mom.
Can’t there be a
happy medium? Why must every card be so disgustingly over the top or atrociously unfunny that I want to puke in my own mouth? Is it too much to ask for some industrious card company executive to design a card that doesn’t require me to check my masculinity at the door? Here’s an idea (Hallmark, feel free to steal this one – I promise I won’t sue):
Plain white stock, four by six inches. Front of the card has a single daisy with the words “Happy Birthday” printed in an attractive font on the bottom. The inside left of the card is blank while the inside right says “Wishing you the happiest of birthdays”.There, that’s fairly simple, right? Now, sell that card for $1.99 and I guarantee you won’t be able to keep enough on the shelves. Men of this millennium know that we’re expected to personalize cards to the women in our lives and actually want to write our own messages; you can trust us to adequately adapt this card for our wives, moms, sisters, etc.
It shouldn’t be this difficult, yet it is. Someone has to speak up before another man is forced to castrate himself in order to purchase a simple greeting card, and someone needs to speak up soon – I’ve grown quite attached to my testicles and would hate to part company when we have so much left to do together.
