If you don’t know what it means, don’t ask Dad (From Preston and Leyland Citizen)

If you don’t know what it means, don’t ask Dad

2:29pm Tuesday 10th February 2009

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As usual at this time of year, I’m wracking my brains as to what to buy my husband as a token of my affection.

Last year’s trowel is still in use so I may go for a spade — after all, it’s the right time of year for turning the soil.

And it will keep him out of the house.

I suppose you could argue that my choice of Valentine gift is a sign that the romance has gone out of our relationship.

I admit to feeling a twinge of guilt on hearing about the latest, popular, February 14 gift idea – the Diamonds Forever Wax.

It’s a Brazilian — if you haven’t a clue what it means, don’t ask your dad — followed by a sparkling diamante jewel placed on your newly smooth skin.

‘The cost is £30, and it’s the perfect gift to give your boyfriend or husband,’ says the marketing blurb, ‘Something he’ll never expect until he finds it himself!’ Heaven forbid!

I may have considered it decades ago, when romance and passion went hand in hand, and he’d sensitively respond to my bodily worries with: "What cellulite?"

Nowadays he mocks me for being overweight and recently told my daughters I was probably heavier than him — unless I’m 17st, that’s a big fat lie.

We don’t have the sort of relationship that warrants any sort of sexy love token, be it Forever Wax — which is perhaps misnamed as it lasts for just a week — lingerie or having a specially-commissioned romantic novel starring us both (yes, you can buy them).

One of those enormous padded cards with love-struck elephants on the front is also out of the question as is one of those schmaltzy newspaper adverts for ‘Snugglebum’ or ‘Cutsie Wootsie Bunny Wunny’.

On Saturday night every restaurant in town will be promoting its menu for lovers, with courses given naff names. I’d rather eat oven chips at home than ask a waiter for a ‘Between the Sheets’ lasagne, a ‘Snoggers’ Souffle’ or a ‘Fondlers’ Fruit Flan’.

I don’t really need to feel guilty about my non-conformist attitude to Valentine’s Day.

I think any of the above — and especially the diamante wax — would have my husband fleeing faster than you could say ‘Cuddlebuddle Kittycat.’ Everybody knows that relationships aren’t all lovey-dovey, hearts and flowers.

Many successful pairings are peppered with bouts of shouting, slamming doors and storming out of the house.

Not that I’m talking about my own, of course.

I’ll just leave a Post-It note on the kitchen cupboard for him on Saturday morning, along the passion-fuelled lines of. ‘Remember to feed cat and buy half a pound of mince.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day.’

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