Maybe it's just me, but judging by the silent and uncomfortable loitering around Valentine's Day card stands, this process of selection is becoming more and more difficult.
I should point out that I make cards. My mother does wedding invites, table plans and cards for all occasions. I like playing with her room full of stuff, creating my own which are, more often than not, cute, cynical, hand-drawn and messy. However thanks to a geographical shift these elf-like pleasures have been withdrawn and I find myself one of you, loitering in card shops.
I enjoy buying a card. Birthday, wedding, there's generally a good choice and I get a kick when I know I've found something good. This year though, I find myself unsatisfied with my options. My partner stays in Oxford and I write relatively frequently. Often I find a card that makes me giggle and I'll send it with some brief remarks about my day. It's fun and I enjoy the tangibility of the process. I also like getting personal mail and a cheeky wee unnecessary letter is always a treat.
Back to my point. Valentine's Day must be - with the exception of selecting a sympathy card - one of the occasions you have to get the sentiment just right. For me, that is something along the lines of 'I really like you and you make me smile and laugh and this is an opportunity to write something witty and silly to remind you.' Getting the right sentiment is important - not because of its own importance but because of the disastrous possibilities if you fail. This year I was struck by the sheer volume of deploringly desperate tokens of love. Cries of (and I'm quoting) 'You make me whole', 'I need you', 'Life with you is beautiful'... I daren't go on.
Please don't think me too cynical. I want to say nice things to people who make me happy but I want to say them myself. I'm struck by these hollow exclamations that result in much contorting of the facial muscles. Surely admitting such dependence on another human being ought to be discouraged, never mind declared on paper.
So humour. I like a funny card and there are plenty about. What's odd is how they have gone to the opposite extreme; from dewy emotions to raw sex. Outdated photos of greased-up men, comments on favourite body parts, the wording turns to full-throated shouts of Stud! Sexy beast! Kinky lover... One merely had the word 'TITS' in a speech bubble accompanied by a stick drawing of a girl. The last one did make me smile, though not as much as another note which simply read; 'I love you so much I want to eat your used bandages'.
No wonder we fear the selection we make. This year, I've found a New Yorker card with a brief comment that amuses both me and, with any luck, my recipient. Such cards are, I think, the most personal. I have attempted some comedy and lyrical prowess with the hope that the whole experience makes his day just that little bit better.
