Why I Wrote “I Hate You” in My Best Friend’s Anniversary Card

It wasn’t her marriage, her confidence or her social life that got to me.

  • By Olivia Johnson (58) - Hairdresser, 
    Mother of 2, Surrey

Published: Monday, September 14, 2026

Claire and I have known each other since our twenties.

 

We’ve seen each other through children, jobs, house moves, ageing parents and more questionable haircuts than either of us would admit to.


So when she asked me to lunch a few days before her 30th wedding anniversary, there was nothing unusual about it. Except something about her irritated me almost immediately.
 

She looked… happy?

Not dramatically. Just easy. 

She ordered pudding without apologising for it. She wore a coral top I’d have talked myself out of buying. And a pair of deep green earrings that were, frankly, a bit much for a Tuesday lunch.
 

When I told her I liked them, she touched one and said:

“Thank you. I love them.”
 

No disclaimer, No explanation.
 

Just: I love them.

I smiled.


And felt something tighten in my chest.

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The list I made in the car

Claire and me, then and now: 1996 and last spring.

Driving home, I caught myself making a list in my head of all the reasons Claire had it easier.
 

Her marriage.

Her confidence.

Her social life.
 

The way she always seemed to have somewhere to be. It was childish. Worse, it wasn’t even true. Claire’s life isn’t remarkably different from mine. 

Same bills. Same family worries. Same knees. Same serious conversations about whether half past nine is now a reasonable bedtime.
 

The difference was much smaller than that. And much harder to admit...
 

Claire still let herself enjoy things. 
 

Without justifying them first.

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When did I stop?

Somewhere along the way, I’d become terribly sensible...
 

I saved the good perfume. I wore the navy blouse because it “went with everything.” And whenever something caught my eye, I could usually explain why I shouldn’t want it within seconds.
 

Too noticeable.

Not practical.

Maybe for a special occasion.
 

Then, somewhere around the roundabout by the big Tesco, it hit me:

I had spent years waiting for an occasion important enough to justify enjoying myself.
 

Claire hadn’t.
 

That was the difference.

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The card

I’d stopped on the way home to buy Claire an anniversary card. A nice one, Thick paper.


At home, I made coffee, sat at the kitchen table and looked at the words:

Happy anniversary. For some reason, they irritated me...


Then, for reasons I still can’t quite explain, I picked up a pen and crossed them out. Underneath, I wrote:
 

I hate you.


I sat there looking at those two words for a long time. Because, of course, I didn’t hate Claire. What I hated was what she’d made me notice.
 

What I really meant was:
I hate that you reminded me of something I’d forgotten about myself.
 

I bought her another card the next morning.That one said all the right things. The first one is still in my kitchen drawer.

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One very small experiment

I didn’t reinvent myself. I didn’t throw away my wardrobe.

There was no dramatic “new me.” I simply gave myself one rule for a month:
 

Whenever I genuinely liked something, I wasn’t allowed to immediately explain why I shouldn’t.
 

That was all. I didn’t have to buy it. I didn’t have to wear it.

I just wasn’t allowed to turn every little bit of pleasure into a debate.
 

The first week, I wore the good perfume to the supermarket. Nobody cared. I felt marvellous. The second week, the colourful blouse finally came off its hanger. And by the third week, something rather unexpected had happened.


I’d started noticing what I actually liked again.

Colour. Interesting details. Beautiful earrings.
 

Things with a little personality.Not a whole new wardrobe. Just small things that could make what I already owned feel different.

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3 second rule

Eventually, I made the rule even simpler.

Whenever something catches my eye, I give myself three seconds before I’m allowed to explain why I shouldn’t like it.


No “at my age.”

No practicality.

No imaginary opinions.


Just: What did my eye go to first?
 

I don’t have to buy it. I don’t even have to do anything with the answer. I just notice it before the sensible part of my brain has time to step in. 

And the more I did that, the more I started noticing what I was naturally drawn to again.

 

That was when I began looking at my jewellery box differently.

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MY JEWELLERY BOX

Inside were the usual suspects. Small studs. Pearls. A thin gold chain. A few pieces I’d owned so long I couldn’t even remember choosing them.


There was absolutely nothing wrong with any of it. Which, I realised, was rather the problem. 

Everything was perfectly nice. Perfectly sensible. Perfectly easy to ignore.
 

I wasn’t looking for more jewellery. Quite the opposite. I wanted fewer pieces that all felt interchangeable. I wanted something that could make a navy blouse I’d owned for ten years feel slightly different. Something I’d actually be pleased to put on. 

So instead of searching for what I needed, I started looking for what made me pause. That was how I came across Parker & Rose.

What caught my attention first was the colour.


The collection was built around four distinct colour stories:

Ruby, Emerald ,Sapphire , Pink Sapphire


Old me would have immediately asked:
 

Which one is safest?

Which one goes with the most?

 

This time, I used the three-second test instead.

I started with Ruby. Which piece did my eye go to first? Then Emerald. Then Sapphire. Then Pink Sapphire.

No comparing one colour against another. No trying to build the “perfect” sensible set. No asking which one I should prefer. 

Just one instinctive choice from each colour story.

Four little decisions. Made before the sensible committee had time to convene.

Keep reading ↓

PICK FOUR PIECES FOR THE PRICE OF ONE

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The SIGNATURE Four

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Then I noticed something I hadn’t expected
 

At first, I assumed I’d have to choose between them.

After all, that’s usually how these things work. Pick your favourite.

Leave the others behind. Except Parker & Rose’s Signature Four worked differently.
 

I could choose one piece from each of the four colour stories...

…and instead of paying for all four: I only paid for ONE.

 

And strangely, that made the three-second test even more enjoyable. I didn’t have to decide which colour deserved to win. I simply had to notice what caught my eye in each one.

So If you’re curious, have a look through the four colour stories for yourself.
 

Try not to think too much about what would be the most practical, what would go with everything, or what you think you should choose.

Instead, just look. Notice which piece catches your eye first.


Then give yourself three seconds before the sensible voice has a chance to answer for you.

Keep reading ↓

LAST CHANCE -  ONLY TODAY 

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Closing this Chapter

Claire still doesn’t know what I wrote in that first card.

Maybe I’ll tell her one day.


I suspect she’d laugh and say something irritatingly sensible like:

“Good. About time.”


And, unfortunately, she’d be right. For years I thought being sensible meant narrowing everything down.


The safest colour.The most practical choice.

The thing least likely to attract attention. I still like sensible shoes. I still check the weather before I leave the house. And half past nine remains an entirely respectable time to start considering bed.
 

But when something catches my eye now, I try to notice it before all the reasons arrive.
 

Three seconds...
 

That’s usually enough.
 

— Olivia

A TIMELESS GIFT TO TREASURE THIS HOLIDAY SEASON

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