By Marianne Kavanagh
Published: 7:00AM GMT 13 Feb 2009
It's
a man's worst nightmare. He's forgotten Valentine's Day, or your
birthday, or your wedding anniversary. Now, as the dreadful realisation
dawns, he has to take decisive action. What should he do?
"Emigrate," says Charlie thoughtfully.
You're an inventive lot, I give you that. Other suggestions include a sudden
migraine attack that renders him blind and speechless, staying out of the
way (emergency at work) until the storm has died down, or – in the case of a
forgotten birthday – doctoring her birth certificate (''See, it's tomorrow!
And you're only 29!'').
My friend
Dave believes that dishonesty is the best policy. His three-point
plan is:
1) Never say you've forgotten.
2) Hint that there's a very big surprise you have arranged, but that it's a
secret you cannot reveal for the time being.
3) Frantically arrange that very big surprise.
Or you could take evasive action months beforehand, says a happily married
father of four.
"I tell her that I'm hopeless at choosing presents, and I'd much rather
she bought what she really wanted," he says, "but that I would
still like to wrap it up and give it to her on the day. So she buys it, and
says, 'This is my anniversary present for Wednesday', I remember the date,
she
gets the present she wants, and everyone's happy."
But most women want a man to remember of his own free will. It's part of the
test. Do you love me enough to remember the day we got married? As
relationship counsellor Gerry Fletcher says, "Does he forget or choose
to ignore? Does he forget year after year even when his partner has shown
her sadness and disappointment in previous years?" Some people, as she
points out, dislike special occasions because they were always problematic
when they were growing up. "I once had a client who said she hated
special occasions as an adult because as a child her father would always
mark them by getting drunk."
It's equally possible, of course, that your partner has no deep-seated
psychological block but is just plain lazy. In most relationships men shrug
off
all responsibility for meaningful dates: it's the woman who's a walking
desk diary. "It was me who remembered his godson's birthday year in,
year out," says a friend, "but it was him who was thanked at the
wedding for being a supportive godfather for 28 years." If the man in
your life has difficulty remembering dates, you can shorten the odds by
getting married on a day he's likely to remember, like his birthday. Gerry
Fletcher suggests making a calendar together of all important family
occasions and putting it in an obvious place (on his pillow?). But even this
might not work. Valentine's Day sees 95 per cent of men saying, ''It's
over-commercialised. I can buy you flowers any day of the year'', which, as
all women know, is a complete and utter cop-out, because not a rose, not a
chrysanthemum, not even a dandelion makes an appearance on any of the other
364
days of the year either.
So what do women think men should do if they forget an all-important date?
Queen of London networking Carole Stone suggests an incredibly romantic
approach that minimises the sting. ''Tell her, 'You are constantly in my
thoughts – every day with you is special and filled with my love for you',
but this probably works only if he looks away from the football long enough
for her to see the passion in his eyes. Red roses definitely help – one for
each year you've been together – but don't, whatever you do, grab a
cellophaned bunch of mixed carnations from the garage forecourt. The
language of flowers on that occasion is, 'You mean as much to me as unleaded
at 84p.'"
Timing
is all, says my friend Anna. ''If it's the night before, go to a
24-hour supermarket, get something fab for breakfast in bed, then hit
lastminute.com. If it's the morning of, take up tea in bed, say, 'This is
the just the beginning', get out of the house and hit the phones/internet.
If it's the night of, grovel. You've had it."
Grovelling, according to the whole of my female acquaintance, must be the real
thing: if you want her to forgive what you've forgotten, it's got to be
bootlicking, carpet-crawling, nose-in-the-dust apology. ''Bite the bullet,''
says my friend Jane, ''by undertaking all the grotty jobs you notoriously
duck on a day-to-day basis (washing, emptying dishwasher, driving to
mother-in-law's) for at least four weeks. Then book something lovely (the
restaurant she likes and you hate, a soppy rom com film that you would
normally avoid like the plague) for the end of the month. You never know,
she might even be talking to you again by then…"
