I have to say that the post you are about to read is my most controversial yet. I am shaking as I type.
A day that I dread is approaching and an uncomfortable confrontation is imminent. That day is Saturday 14th February, a day that causes a rift between my good lady and myself. I loathe Valentine’s Day.
Let me explain. I have a problem with authority and hate being told what to do by anybody, including Mrs PM, my mum, my boss at work, the British Prime Minister and even the Queen herself. I am more likely to call the Queen “Liz” than “Your Majesty”.
A day that I dread is approaching and an uncomfortable confrontation is imminent. That day is Saturday 14th February, a day that causes a rift between my good lady and myself. I loathe Valentine’s Day.
Let me explain. I have a problem with authority and hate being told what to do by anybody, including Mrs PM, my mum, my boss at work, the British Prime Minister and even the Queen herself. I am more likely to call the Queen “Liz” than “Your Majesty”.
I also hate being ripped off.
As Valentine’s Day approaches I find myself at odds with a faceless monster somewhere in the world who is trying to shame me into doing something that I disagree with and wasting valuable time and money for something that is manufactured solely to extract as much cash from my wallet as possible. I am being dictated to and told that I must:
(1) Waste my money on a pointless Valentine’s Day card.
(2) Waste my money on red roses that double in price at this time of year.
(3) Waste my time trying to book a romantic meal for two in a restaurant that will almost certainly be fully booked.
(4) Waste my money paying double prices for the “Valentine’s Day” special in the above restaurant if I am (un)fortunate enough to get a table for two.
I can imagine that people reading so far are divided.
The women are thinking “You callous unromantic arsehole! You should be ashamed of yourself.”
The men are thinking one of three things; “You naïve idiot!” or “Well said mate!” or “Shall I call an ambulance now or do you think you can escape the violent hoards?”
Last Friday I was chatting to a few friends about how I despise Valentine’s Day when one of the women present said the following to me (and I am not making this up).
“Listen, love, you had better stop right there, right now! If I was your missus I would have killed you twice because of the things you’ve just said. I’m not your missus but if I hear any more I will actually kill you on [Mrs PM]’s behalf!”
And I looked into her eyes as she spoke and saw pure venom. She meant every single word. That’s what Valentine’s Day does; it turns women into monsters.
If any women are still reading this and looking for the “Post A Comment” button so that they can describe the ways that they wish to disembowel me, I beg you to just listen to what I have to say.
First of all, I hate being told that I have to be romantic on February 14th and I hate being made to feel guilty because I choose to rebel. I love Mrs PM and I will in my own time (and on numerous occasions) buy her a gift to show my love, buy her flowers for no reason, take her to a fabulous restaurant for a wonderful meal and pay the bill without a care in the world. My very nature, as dictated by my star sign Libra (if you believe that sort of thing), is that I am romantic.
When I was a child, I loved Valentine’s Day because I understood it to be the one day of the year that I could buy a card for a girl that I fancied in order to impress upon her that she had a secret admirer. The whole point was that it was anonymous. There was something special about giving and receiving the card. Why? Because you had absolutely no idea who it was from.
That’s the way it should be.
Last year I tried to persuade Mrs PM that buying a card was defeating the object of Valentine’s Day because she would know who the card was from and so would I. What happened? I ended up buying a card and signing it. I received a card signed by Mrs PM – what was the point? I bought roses that cost me an arm and a leg. What did I get? Nothing!
I was partially successful; I persuaded Mrs PM to go out for a meal the day AFTER Valentine’s Day so that we could avoid the overpriced “lover’s menus”.
This year I have finally won a decisive battle. I have successfully worn Mrs PM down; we will not be buying each other cards and I will not be buying flowers. However, we will be going out for a meal.
If any women are still reading then please understand that throughout the course of the year I will buy Mrs PM flowers, I will take her for a romantic meal and I will tell her that I love her. What’s more I will do so on many occasions.
No faceless, manipulative marketing people are going to tell me what to do on Valentine’s Day.
And please, do let me know what you think. Mrs PM is actually reading this as I type. I hope she is going to use that saucepan she is holding for cooking.
