Honesty is such a lonely word

Have you any idea how difficult it is to find a non-soppy Valentine’s Card? All I want is one that says “Look, you know I think you’re alright or I wouldn’t have married you”. Or “I let you father my baby – what more do you want?” But it seems that’s too much to ask. Seriously, Hallmark need to hire me immediately so they can start selling cards that tell the truth. I mean, yes, I love the man, but it seems wrong to gush about him unconditionally when half the time I want to stick pins in his eyes.

We’re always hearing about how honesty is the best policy, yet every year we go all gushy and gooey and tell our other halves that we think they’re the perfect specimen of human being. Funny, but you weren’t saying that when they left their smelly socks all over the floor. Or when they emptied your joint bank account to buy Star Wars memorabilia. Or when they got drunk and puked all over your new shoes.

My husband regularly buys me big bunches of flowers. He leaves chocolate bars around the house for me, and patiently puts up with my one-woman crazy train. But he also knows I like things neat and tidy, so he goes around leaving little bits of paper everywhere just ‘cause he thinks it’s hilarious. He knows I hate animal cruelty, so he brought a big reindeer rug into our home. He knows I prefer bare walls, so he hangs pictures on every available inch of wall space he can find. And you expect me to tell him that absolutely everything about him is splendiferous?!

No, we tell each other the truth. We’re honest with each other. Yes, the good far outweighs the bad but, at the end of the day, he still supports Liverpool. He’s still a Dub. And, to him, I’m still a bogger with OCD and a tendency to talk too much. (Ain’t love grand!)

So why can’t everyone else just tell the truth too? Why aren’t there more cards that say “You drive me insane but you’re loaded so I’ll give you a go”? Or “I’m happy to go along with this... for now”? Why sugar-coat it? Even for our wedding, I found it extremely difficult to find readings that didn’t make me want to vomit. While searching, I found one that began, “Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived”. It was about an island that was slowly sinking into the sea and, one by one, all the ‘feelings’ that lived there left. But ‘love’ remained. Honestly, I’d rather have set fire to my own hair.

I was on the DART recently when a teenage girl got on. Her clothes and partly-shaven head said she didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her, but I was most struck by her immaculate complexion. She had the palest, clearest skin I’ve ever seen, and looked absolutely stunning. And then she pulled out a make-up bag. Now I admit that a lot of women look better with a touch of make-up, so I wasn’t too quick to judge. But when I glanced back at her a few minutes later, it was as if she’d been replaced by a circus clown. Or a man in drag.

Why should we all lie to people like that and tell them how beautiful they look with all those caked-on layers? Why is there one day a year when we pretend like our other halves have no flaws, when every other day we give serious consideration to poisoning their pizza?

Where’s the Hallmark card that says, “I prefer you when you don’t look like a satsuma with eyebrows”?