I popped into my local newsagent last week to pick up a copy of the Guardian newspaper and, as I stood in the queue, I realised I was standing next to a rack of Valentine’s Day cards.
I began to browse and was struck by how many of the cards were humorous. Some were just silly – “dim sum-body say it’s Valentine’s Day?”, or there was one with a couple in the bathroom – “Roses are red, violets are blue, you shave your legs while I do a poo!” But to my surprise, there were also a lot of cards that were very explicit – “Roses are red, I’m shit at poems. Fancy a shag?” These cards had a laddish, rather adolescent quality.
Where, I wondered, have the heartfelt cards gone? Where are the cards that talk about loving you forever; being the only one; sharing a life together?
It brought to mind a therapy session I conducted with a couple some years back. They were a long-married pair with grownup children and a deeply entangled life. But on their 40th anniversary, the wife, who I’ll call Mabel, said that she felt that she couldn’t go on living with her husband, Cole, if there was never to be any romance between them. She’d waited patiently for him to show his feelings, but 40 years had passed and Cole had never told her with a straight face that he loved her, had never liked kissing her and had shrugged her off when she tried to hold his hand.
This failure to be genuinely open about his feelings was typified, she said, by his Valentine’s Day cards. He was, she acknowledged, dutiful. She always got one, but it was never from him. Rather, he had cooked up an alter ego – Monsieur Mysterioso – who sent the card, signing off elaborate, cod-romantic declarations with a drawing of a Batman-style eye mask.
It took some time to uncover why Cole found it hard to show his feelings, why he had needed to create this persona to tell his wife that he loved her. His childhood had been marked by parents who were cold and rejecting, which had made him extremely fearful of showing any need or vulnerability. His difficulty is certainly not unusual – many people are uncomfortable about showing they care, and worry that wearing their heart on their sleeve will lead to it being pierced. The comic, crude sexual messages in those Valentine’s cards are probably just another way that people hide their deeper feelings.
Indeed, in many relationships, the biggest challenge lies in putting emotions into words. Although some couples come to therapy because they can’t stop venting about how upset, angry or let down they are, most come because years and years have passed and they haven’t really said a word to each other about their feelings. The biggest risk to intimate relationships is silence and that silence might be our difficulty expressing loving feelings, as well as hating ones. But then is Valentine’s Day really the time to begin a serious or difficult conversation about how things are going? Just this week, a couple declined a first consultation appointment on the 14th and frankly, I don’t blame them – it would be like asking for a divorce on Christmas Day. Rather, perhaps we could treat this special day like Thanksgiving in the US – a type of thanksgiving for couples; a chance to show gratitude for what we do have with our partners, and to put aside our concerns about what is missing.
How do we do that? Most couples are rather strapped for cash at the moment, and the idea of a big night out with bells and whistles might feel quite intimidating. Some years ago, I worked on a project where couples were helped with their relationship in groups – one of the tasks we set them was for each partner to arrange an outing or activity that didn’t cost more than a tenner. It was amazing how inventive the couples were and how much they enjoyed the challenge. One couple hired a tandem bike in Richmond Park, another couple played crazy golf and then had a picnic.
My own most memorable Valentine’s Day was when I was a student and in love with a struggling actor. In the morning, my boyfriend disappeared into the kitchen to make tea and brought back a piece of toast carved into a heart and smeared lavishly with raspberry jam. It said a lot – much more than a bunch of overpriced red roses, or a rude, jokey card.
