Happy Valentine’s Day to All Athletchics!

Is everyone hoping for a nice romantic evening with their significant other? Be careful what you wish for!

Athletchic wants to wish a happy Valentine’s Day to both our male and female readers in two very different ways.

To the Women

Love is in the air, and Al Roker’s shouting winter weather storms all across the country. We all know what that means, right? It means you could be signing up for those prenatal classes sooner than you think. And for you thirty or forty-somethings, it could be much later than you planned.

Don’t believe us? Google babies born nine months after a weather storm. and you’ll turn up articles on winter storms, super storms, ice storms and even Hurricane Sandy.

So ladies, have a great day but, unless you’re willing to turn that exercise room into a nursery, proceed with caution.

To The Men

ALL WOMEN LOVE Valentine’s Day. Some will say they don’t, but deep down they are hoping you’ll do something sweet to make them feel special.

We know you are all at different stages on the romantic timeline, and we also know that we women can be a little confusing. So Athletchic would like to clarify a few Valentine Day phrases on the love timeline for you:

One month:  She won’t say anything. This means: If you can’t fork out the big bucks to buy me a dozen roses at this stage of the game, then you’ll never understand me. If they’re not here by midnight, I’m blocking your number.

One year: I don’t need anything for Valentine’s Day. I have you.  Means: Yes, life’s great. I really love you, and if you don’t send me flowers, be prepared to listen to me talk about every single gift every single one of my girlfriends received for the next eleven and a half months.

Five Years: Please don’t waste the money. I really don’t need flowers. Let’s just spend a quiet evening at home. Means: If you don’t come home with flowers and take me out to dinner, you’ll be taking a lot of cold showers for the next month—maybe longer.

Ten years: We don’t need to celebrate Valentine’s Day. We are way past that. Means: I’ve had your babies, put up with your bowling night, golf league and your beer-belching buddies. If you don’t hire a babysitter and take me out for a night, I’m buying you the biggest diaper pack I can find and booking that two week cruise for myself with my running buddies.

Fifteen Years:  I’m not like other women. I don’t need flowers or jewelry to know you love me. Means: You better show up with a great big diamond tonight. I don’t care if it’s on a band or hanging on a string. I’m wearing it to the next parent-teacher conference, or you’ll be raising these kids alone.

Twenty Years: Kiss my butt. Means: You’ve screwed up the last 19, so you better come up with a huge idea or you’ll be wearing that silver TaylorMade as a necklace.

Thirty Years: Once again, she won’t say anything. Means: Well, if you haven’t gotten it right by now, you probably haven’t made it here.

Happy shopping guys! It’s not too late until the clock strikes 12. Good luck!

_________________________________________________________________________ Cyndie Zahner is a free lance writer. Follow her on Twitter at @tweetyz or on Instagram as athletchicz.

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