Dear John,
As you know, today is St Valentine's Day and tradition dictates that it is a day for exchanging gifts and cards with your loved one. I say tradition but really we both know that it is merely a capitalist ploy by the plethora of card shops, florists and purveyors of gimmicky 'romantic' tat to extract money from the half-witted public.
Usually I would completely ignore the romantic connotations February 14th holds. In fact, it probably wouldn't surprise you to learn that there have been many years where I failed to notice it all.
Until you, John. And I'm not going to pretend that us starting to date (if that is even the correct terminology for what we are doing now), in itself was the reason that I'm writing this (almost certainly ill-advised) card to you. I probably wouldn't have acknowledged today at all if I hadn't been confronted by your Valentine's gift to me first thing this morning.
I know you're not supposed to give in order to receive (mind out of the gutter please John – it's not going to be one of those letters), but it did occur to me that perhaps as you had given me a gift you may be expecting something back. As I would not have the first idea of what kind of gift you would find acceptable, beyond the usual clichés, I hope you will accept this card as an alternative. At least for this year.
As you know, I don't have a huge amount of experience with being in a relationship. In the past it's something I have avoided at all costs. However, at the moment, I find myself in one and although I still look upon the Valentine's tradition as pointless, I suppose I must be slightly more open to the idea of romance this year than usual. In the past few weeks I've noticed (mainly with irritation) the displays of Valentine's paraphernalia plastered all over the place. It's in the supermarket when we buy milk, it's in Angelo's with his special (overpriced) menu, it's even in St Barts when the nurses were participating in that puerile 'Kiss for £1' nonsense, claiming to be raising funds for heart disease.
I'd even gone as far as to furtively take a look at a few cards (that day in Sainsbury's when you ran into Dr Way when we were shopping. After I'd used up all our bread in that propulsion experiment) but found they were all intolerable. It's beyond me how people can send some of these cards with a straight face. No matter what anyone says it's impractical to pledge yourself to someone for all eternity. Marriage statistics alone prove that a great majority of relationships just do not last. But more importantly until someone has proven that there is anything more to existence than this short lifetime how can one possibly offer up an eternity?
But all this is preamble to the principal point I would like to make.
I can not say that I will be yours forever, John. I can not even say with any great certainty that I want to be. But what I can say is this: I am happier today with you in my life than I have been for many many days of my life. I'm never going to be the most romantic man in the world; I'm never even going to make it into the top one million. I can't fawn over you, or gush. I'm likely to be selfish, more often than not. Perhaps I will forget occasions that are significant to you and I'm almost certainly going to unintentionally hurt you many times over by being insensitive to your mood/feelings. These are things that I struggle with, as you are all too aware. I can not always connect my actions to your reactions. Humans by and large are frustratingly emotional creatures. They place too much emphasis on tact, etiquette and social pleasantries - all things that I have no time for. Consequently, the greatest gift I can offer you is that I will try. Every time I cause you pain I will try to learn a lesson that will prevent me from doing so again. If I step over one of your lines, I will help you to redraw it in fluorescent indelible permanent marker. I'll do my best even when I don't want to. For you, John, I'll try.
Yours,
Sherlock