*For the record, I wrote this yesterday, but like the genius that I am forgot to press that charming little ‘publish’ button.*
St. Valentine’s Day. That one day a year when it sucks just slightly more than the other 363 and a half days to be a member of the singletons.
Wanna know how I spent mine? Crammed in an ice cold room with drama queens left, right and centre as I attempted to design make-up a la mid-50s. Oh how very romantic.. Having said this I had a wondeful 15-minute coffee prior to rehearsals with the girls, and a beautiful evening date with the future housemate, which consisted of reheated quorn lasagne and a viewing of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Mildly more romantic I suppose.. And in the city of Brighton, a girlie Valentine’s evening is nothing unheard of.
But really, it made me feel oh-so-very in the mood for suicidal music (think Evanescence crossed with screamo death metal) walking across campus this evening. Not only was it colder than a frozen baked bean, but every other person I passed was in a couple. A cute, cuddly, couple-y couple. Gag, I spit at them all. Okay, that’s a lie. I simply walked on past and cursed my ipod for somehow finding only the love related songs as an accompaniment to my pitiful trek.
To be fair, this time last year wasn’t a whole lot better, although I had hoped for an improvement. I had literally just (within about 4 or 5 days) come out of a relationship and was stuck in the window seat of a coach embarking on a 20 hour journey to Austria. Did I mention 20 hours? Next to the best friend, who was bawling at the prospect of being away from her bf for the “special day”, let alone the rest of the week. Behind t’other friendlings who spent the entire journey snuggling under their ski jackets. And who said romance is dead..? So maybe I should count my lucky stars, eh? At least I’m sat on my own bed this year, and not squashed on a stuffy, teenage-boy-smelling bus. In fact really I should probably take comfort in the fact that I’m on my own and not surrounded by people who *are* one half of a couple. They only tend to harp on about them anyway. Bitter? Moi? Only on V. Day.
It’s never been a good day. Nope. Even at school, they used to have this *oh-so-charming* little ritual whereby you could send roses, chocolates, messages to your ‘valentine’ and the year book committee (aka. I-chose-this-elective-so-I-could-fill-the-school-book-with-photos-of-just-*my*-friends) would deliver them, in a somewhat humiliating way, to the desired recipient. Cute right? Wrong. Oh so very very wrong. Do you know how it felt to be the same lonesome person who never (and I do mean never) received one of those lame cut-out pink paper hearts with some equally cringe-inducing rhyming couplet, usually involving sugar, written upon it? Well, if you ever need to know, gimme’ a ring..
It kind of makes you think. Is Valentine’s Day really such a big deal? Is it filled with romantic gestures and whirlwind romances? Or do they only exist on the big screen.. Am I simply exercising my cynical nature if I mention the commercial value of such a ‘holiday’? Or is it true. Is Valentine’s Day purely a day, once celebrated for such pure and meaningful reasons, for the men in suits to cash in the ‘big bucks’, making a fortune on others’ love, or lack of it as the case may be. And finally, is there actually any hope for all us singletons who’ve simply accepted the fact that actually V. Day isn’t there to be embraced, but to be rebelled against. If I had a pound for every anti-valentines party or event I’ve been invited to or heard about in the last week I would be a very rich girl. And then, let’s be honest, would being single really be as big of an issue? I think not.