It’s that time of year again.
No, not the first day of the summer holidays. Not my birthday. Not even my birthday prior to 2010, when I decided we were going to start working backwards from now on.
It’s BLOODY VALENTINE’S DAY.
You know the drill. In the red corner (red is for hearts, innit) we have the Loved-Up Couples, the Smug Marrieds, as Bridget Jones would call them. The look at me I’ve found someone and my life is complete brigade. I’m even going to start referring to them as my “other half” just to show all you sad single numpties that you’e not even WHOLE PEOPLE now.
In the blue corner (blue for cold, as in LEFT OUT IN THE COLD ALL YOU SAD SINGLETONS) we have the opposing team, the Tragic Singles. The Miss and Mr Havishams sat on the singles table at the wedding, right down the end next to the toilet, bewailing their innumerable Tinder disasters and swapping war stories about that Match.com date who seemed so great in the emails, only to show up at All Bar One wearing a Donald Trump wig and Morris dancer’s bells, and greeting them with a cry of “AHOY THERE ME HEARTIES.”
“Valentine’s Day is a waste of time and money!”
“It was invented by greetings cards companies! Down with greetings cards, the spawn of the devil!”
“Stick it to the man and spend Valentine’s Day watching Netflix on your own in your pyjamas feeling miserable!”
The couples are too busy holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes to respond.
And so there we have it, single ladies and gentlemen of the world, Valentine’s Day in a nutshell. Either you can enjoy it with your “other half” (please don’t call them that. Are you not both complete people without each other? Oh hell, I don’t know. I’ve never been in love. Maybe that’s what happens. You just break in two or something, who knows?) or you can sit around feeling bitter because no one loves you. OR……
…….Wait for it peeps, here is my revolutionary idea.
—–Wait for it……
You can just IGNORE IT!
I know. I told you it was good. That is what I am going to do this year, I am going to ignore it! I am not going to stand in front of the window waiting in anticipation for the postman to bring a card from a secret admirer who doesn’t exist. I am not going to buy myself a packet of Rolos and eat all of them-even the last one-in a defiant act of declaring love only for myself.* I am not going to stalk people I have spoken to once, find out their names and send them an anonymous card with my phone number in.** I’m not going to get involved in a conversation via text with someone I think is the recipient of said card, only to find out I’ve got the wrong number and am actually talking to a Glasgow teenager*** and I am definitely not going to send a card to anyone who can’t read or who at the very least is pretending they can’t, as they are so horrified at having received a card from me.****
*I haven’t done this.
***This also never happened.
****Not another one I can chalk up to experience.
See, Valentine’s Day, best ignored. If you are part of a couple, I wish you well. I hope you won’t be like the couple I saw storm out of the restaurant on the one occasion I did go out for dinner with an actual real life person on Valentine’s Day. On the other hand, if you are, like me, a single person, parent or not, I hope you will join with me in ignoring the whole event, rather than declaring your sorrow because someone else received some flowers and you saw it and it offended your delicate sensibilities, and you started hearing the words to All By Myself in your head, because it isn’t about you, it’s about poor St Valentine and his impending death. And it’s about couples
bickering, and running out of restaurants having a rare chance to celebrate being part of a couple in this world which never appreciates couples or celebrates them in any way, especially not with big parties and white dresses, or not being charged single supplements because they had the audacity to go on holiday as part of a couple, or being able to buy houses because they have two incomes unlike poor old you with your one.
OK maybe this ignoring it thing might be more difficult than I thought. I’m going back to the attic now. Anyone want to come and watch Netflix with me and be miserable?