Hello and welcome to a simple guide to a more honest Valentine’s Day for men. This doesn’t exclude women but be aware we don’t like this day and it’s all your fault.
This is an advanced course so if you are single, in a relationship, engaged or married without kids this isn’t the guide for you. All you people need to know is that us married-with-children types hate you with a passion usually saved for despot dictators and Piers Morgan. Your foolishness, overspending and idea of romance are things we laugh at as you try to get everything “just right” when we know there is no such thing and there never will be. Also ladies this is going to be a difficult journey for you and even if you are married with kids you might find some of the honesty a little disturbing – it’s only fair I warn you that “Yes your bum does look big in that” will feature at some point during this course. You have been warned.
First off the rank is the card. This is a very complex area because despite never reading the bloody thing because quite frankly the shop is full of goggle-eyed twonks and we just want out. The rules are simple – small and no pop ups, extra pages or confetti. The message shouldn’t be too soppy or your other half will think you’ve banged your secretary again and not too simple as they will look at you as if you haven’t read it. Also we are aware that the cards you really want don’t exist and this is an issue. Unfortunately we haven’t had time here at JD Inc to publish our range this year but have a few ideas for next February:
- I hate you, but I can’t afford a divorce
- It was your friend I was interested in all those years ago, but here we are. Still together
- When I said I wanted three in the bed…
- All I said was how about something other than missionary!
- F*ck it, you’ll have to do.
Secondly, the gift. Don’t bother. I know it sounds bad but whether you get her something or not you’ll disappoint her. She didn’t like the hoover you bought her last year as she assumed you were making a comment about her housekeeping skills – which you were but your acting covered it up well. Flowers die, chocolates are no use as she’s “On a diet”, nothing diet related as she’ll moan at you asking “You think I’m fat?”, and forget underwear – there’s a drawer of interesting colours, fabrics, lace, matching sets that last saw daylight around five years ago when she bought them with the voucher you bought her to “treat herself to some nice undies”. She misunderstood the “herself” to actually mean “herself”, not you, and those faded black pants and greying bras are your reward instead.
Finally forget the meal out – you can’t compete with those youngsters anymore. Just get her favourite wine and a DVD you can just about suffer and have a nice night in instead. You know I’m right; those young things with their hand holding across the table, smiling at each other, enjoying themselves – urgh, please! You’ll not see anything you recognise on the menu and the prices of both the food and the wine are in cricket scores not pounds, and she’ll still not have forgiven you for not answering quickly enough when she asked you if her bum looked big in the dress she’s wearing. (Okay you were thinking “Yes your bum does look big in that” but your mouth didn’t say “No darling of course not” in good time). She’ll want to go dancing, you’ll want to go home. The taxi queue will be too long and the fare is a disgrace for only a couple of miles.
So the solutions? Buy a card, a bottle of wine and a DVD and that’s it. And next year, make sure you’re working and “can’t get out of it”.