Happy Bloody Valentine’s Day

Darlings, it’s Valentine’s Day. Excited? NON?! Gosh, I’m so surprised I fell over. Except I didn’t because I’m being sarcastic. Valentine’s Day has that effect on me.

Valentine’s Day may be crap when you’re single, but it’s even more crap when you’re happily and boringly partnered. I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t welcome each February 14th with the eager anticipation of naughty lingerie and heart-shaped bloody everything. Mainly because I never get those things.

A lot of me doesn’t want it (or doesn’t WANT to want it) – because it’s ridiculous and there’s the gas bill to pay, and who wants to be part of the consumer nightmare anyway? But then a lot of me actually does just want to be swept up in a dreamy haze of mysterious and expensive dinner plans, velvet jewellery boxes
and whispered sweet nothings… But in fact sweet nothing is exactly what I get. Sweet F A.

That’s not entirely true – I do get a Valentine’s card. If I remind him. As a hilarious joke, Significant Other asked me last week if I could pick a card for myself and he’d pay me back. HA HA HA. Excellent joke, really good… God, please let it be a joke. Please.

I’ve never been lavished with gifts. I’m just not one of those expensive girls. Men don’t think so anyway, and I always agreed with them on principle – nobody wants to be thought a gold digger after all. But when I think about it…I REALLY like diamonds and handbags and shoes and dinner dates and love notes and slutty underwear. So why do I not insist on these things come February?

My bitter, sarcastic Man-Girl pride dictates that I sacrifice all those amazing lovely things just so I don’t have to be one of those girls. And you have no idea how much it hurts me inside.

So whatever you’re doing tonight – be it crying and watching Bridget Jones, having an ironic ‘get together’ with your other jaded single envy-monster friends, or licking face in Pizza bloody Express – I hate you. Yes you: ALL of you. Because whatever you’re doing, I am more boring and pathetic than the lot of you. And I don’t even get shiny ill-fitting La Senza underwear to make up for it.