LAST week was 'Public Declaration of Profound Emotion by Purchasing Materialistic Items and Presenting Them to Partner Day' or Valentine's Day for those who conform to commercial-based traditions.
For weeks you couldn't lift your eyes from your shoes for being bombarded with images of 'real love' that we are all supposed to live up to. We were told that if you bought this heart-holding teddy, or that massive bunch of expensive red roses, you would have the perfect Valentine's Day, then perfect love for the rest of your life. There were posters of couples staring lovingly into each other's eyes, walking hand in hand on the beach projecting this image of 'true love' that if you don't emulate your ordinary love, that most of us mums and dads possess, simply isn't good enough.
Humans as a race are gullible. Most of us have big hearts and want to believe that the perfect image portrayed is real. But maybe we should get real about this. It's not even remotely real. The couple on the poster staring into one another's eyes in such a loving fashion met maybe an hour before the photo shoot and are getting paid to act like lovesick puppies. They have not been married for 10 or 15 years. For if they used real people in real adverts I think the cards and the posters and the rest of the stuff they try and shove down our throats might look a little different.
For example one card might feature a tired mother, just home from work, standing in a living room which looks like it has been the target of a ransacking, asking the father loudly what the effing eff he was thinking letting the kids make an 'effing hut' from every chair, duvet and effing blanket in the house?
Or the father glaring at the mother over the dinner table after she inquires if he's going to finish painting that bedroom he put the undercoat on over six months ago. That maybe the undercoat might be dry by now, did he think?
Or the mother laying awake, bloodshot eyes rolling heavenward, wondering if the father will ever stop snoring like a wildebeest that escaped from the Serengeti and found its way into her bed.
Or the card could be faced by a beautifully romantic image of the early morning rush – the shouting, that one lost shoe, the one child who keeps going back to sleep, the toast burning, the smoke alarm blaring, the tumble out the door and the rushed peck on the cheek as Mum and Dad head their separate ways.
I think I'd rather buy those cards than the fake fairytale ones which are on the shelves of our shops today.
Love is not perfect. Like all of us, it has flaws. Much like life, with love there are bumps in the road.
Love is a cup of tea and a kiss on the forehead when you've been up all night with a fevered child and your clothes smell of puke. Love is someone worrying about you. Love is your other half really wanting to punch someone in the face for wronging you, but never actually doing it.
Love is making you laugh when you want to cry. Love is compromising and taking back harsh words spoken in the heat of battle. Love is a big hug to ground you when you're losing your mind and think your world is falling apart. Love is liking someone despite the fact they drive you absolutely crazy.
Love is someone wanting the best for you. Love is going to the shop in the lashing rain and howling wind to fetch some roast chicken crisps. Love is doing anything to make the other person happy. Love is saying sorry. Love is falling asleep on the sofa together after being totally wrecked by bringing up kids. And love is not wanting to be anywhere else.
