Recently I had to prove to a foreign government, for travel purposes, that I was in a relationship. The whole exercise reminded me of being 15 and trying to win over the schoolyard sceptics that I indeed had a boyfriend. “He’s real, I swear, you just don’t know him. I met him on holidays. We’ve kissed with open mouths and everything. I do have a boyfriend. I’m not a big frigid.”
I am decades older now, but my panic levels remain high. Government-visa-granter people terrify me as much as teenage girls in demanding proof and scrutinising holes in your evidence.
But the government differs from a mean bunch of girls in second year in their reasons for asking. The government was checking if my relationship was legitimate or if I was sneaking someone in illegally. Their reasons for scrutiny were law-and-order related rather than just checking if I was indeed a big frigid.
I was expecting my partner's statement to read simply: 'I am acquainted with Brianna. She is grand as girlfriends go. She doesn't like GAA, but she makes some good spuds'
My partner had to write a statement about us and the relationship. My partner is an Irishman. While it’s a lazy stereotype, he would indeed rather have a bath with his girlfriend’s dad than write in depth about his feelings for her on an official document.
I was expecting his statement to read simply: “I am acquainted with Brianna. She is grand as girlfriends go. She doesn’t like GAA, but she makes some good spuds.” (The last line was actually his suggestion lest anyone accuse me of anti-Irish prejudice. I do make good spuds and not much else.)
We had to send WhatsApps, a timeline of our relationship, photos, wedding invitations addressed to the two of us, birthday cards to one another and other things in one big mortifying document to be read over by a complete stranger.
This is where we hit a snag. Our texts and WhatsApps, like lots of cohabiting couples’, rarely portray romance. Sometimes at best they read like slightly put-upon housemates. Big chunks of our chats are just reminding each other to get groceries for dinner or asking should we get a takeaway because we can’t be arsed cooking the dinner anyway.
Other texts are warning the other not to skip ahead an episode on the show we’re watching together, while others just simply say “Micheal Collins was a bit of a ride” with no context. Inconveniently for both myself and the government, people in happy long-term relationships don’t text each other long paragraphs declaring their love in a visa-approved format. The kind of intimacy and love that proves a real relationship isn’t often written down. So I think the standards of proof need to widen to reflect this.
It takes real passion and commitment to a relationship to have texted 'Don't go into the loo. I'm afraid if you smell what I've just done then we'll never have sex again'
Any old spoofer can write “I love you” in a text message. It takes real passion and commitment to a relationship to have texted “I can hear you buttering your toast while I’m on a call. You butter too loudly and slowly” or “Don’t go into the loo. I’m afraid if you smell what I’ve just done then we’ll never have sex again.”
We're not animals, and we do say I love you every day (and use air freshener in the loo), but I think there are better metrics to prove real relationships
There should be other boxes you can tick to prove your long-term love. “Do you wear old stained tracksuits and thick bed socks around the house in front of each other and still find each other attractive?”
“Has your partner held your hair back while you had a particularly violent bout of food poisoning?”
“Can you send your partner to the shops for tampons because they know the make and model of your preferred feminine-hygiene products by heart?”
“Has your partner come to watch your GAA game, had no clue what was going on but cheered every time you went near the ball anyway?”
“Does your partner feel comfortable enough calling you to rescue him from a spider in the bath because you’re Australian and not afraid of them?”
“Did you lie to your partner that you weren’t afraid of spiders because his fear seemed greater than yours and you didn’t want him to feel bad about it?”
Sisters in the family are shown a single top and asked 'who actually owns this?'
What about other types of relationships? The form was for “immediate family”. What about parents? I mean, sure, there are birth and adoption certificates, but that’s the boring option. Just get the government to FaceTime your mam and she’ll tell them every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in your life, from the time you took all your clothes off at midnight Mass at the age of four to backing into the front gate at 28. Bring the government official to your home and let them see your parents are your real parents by starting an argument over who last had the remote control and lost it.
Sisters in the family are shown a single top and asked “who actually owns this?” Then they are allowed to go through each other’s wardrobes to see where their favourite dress actually went.
In the end whatever we did worked. My partner was granted what he needed to enter the country, meet my family and watch us have the occasional row over the location of the remote. If you’re comfortable roaring at each other across multiple rooms over a Samsung channel changer then you’re definitely family.