These people went to Clintons and look what happened…
‘Cos. Truly. It does.
Who, in love, needs a specific day of the year to remind them that they need to get the pushchair and two kids into a Clintons to buy something so utterly pointless that it will NEVER be looked at again, or will be stuffed in the ‘We Recycle Christmas Cards’ bin in Morrisons. Fuckwits, that’s who. Oh yeah. And then there’s the Post Office queue. Perhaps I’m being harsh…
Love is about more than spending money on a piece of paper with a picture of a sodding bear in a nappy crying, because its heart is in its hands. I’d cry too if mine was. Or die. Or a photo of an obviously suicidal cat licking a dog 12 times its size. Eejit deserves everything it gets.
Fuck the greetings card industry. Make the person you love their favourite meal. Pour them their favourite drink. Give them a foot massage. Fuck them senseless. Breakfast in bed. Do the nappy changes. Buy them a book. Do something meaningful. It doesn’t take money. It takes effort, will, and maybe a bit of time. Don’t try to impress. Just be you. If they love you, that is enough.
And, sometimes, the person you want to send a message to isn’t actually someone you lust after and want. It can be a friend. Someone who has shown you love, support and given you a boost when you need it. But that, apparently, is wrong. It’s all about mwaah mwaah kissy kissy bears holding other bears, chocolates in the shape of hearts, and a big load of shite. Nothing about love. Real love.
For all of you out there who want to buy a card for your loved one. Do. I’ll not judge you. In fact, perhaps I envy you. For being able to.
But remember, St Valentine was murdered. Brutally. A fitting icon for such a day. And his name wasn’t Valentine. It was Dave.
Me? Bitter? Never…
And, FYI, I’ve always been like this.
Now go and read this by @motherventing – please. It’s on the same subject and much better than this.
First published February 9th, 2012.