I decided to originally write a scathing attack on the whole Valentines Day shebang, having spent the last 3 years very alone on February 14th. I then realised that this is what everyone else in the known universe is writing about, so instead I’m just doing a small post on what I got up to the other day.
I cycled into Greenwich, with the intent of buying a book, perhaps having a coffee and then wandering around Greenwich Market. I had almost forgotten that it was Valentines Day, only to be reminded when everyone on the street seemed to come as a pair.
It’s the curse of Valentine’s Day that everyone who is part of a couple is tainted by assumptions that they’re getting lovey-dovey all day. There I was standing in the off licence cum grocery, when lo and behold; a couple came in to buy some groceries. How dare they, I thought. Look at them, smugly holding hands whilst they check out the frozen food isle. As they mulled over whether to buy minestrone or oxtail soup I had to leave the shop otherwise the phrase GBH would soon be marching with ill-deserved confidence in the direction of this situation. It’s only because they happened to go shopping on Valentine’s Day that this happened, mind. Any other day of the year, perfectly acceptable. Today however, pity the poor sod who trots out of his front door to pick up a few essentials with his missus, because he’s going to have daggers looked at him from every footloose person within a 2 mile radius.
Off licence incident aside, I actually had a pretty pleasant afternoon. For once I’d actually put on enough layers so that my testicles wouldn’t retreat into my abdomen, and I was enjoying aimlessly strolling, sipping my coffee.
However, as I went to unchain my bike, the piece de resistance hove into view, and shattered my brief fantasy that “Hey, Valentine’s Day isn’t that bad after all”. It’s one thing being one of the only single men on the high street. It’s another thing entirely when people who look like they’ve swallowed walrus DNA stride into view, with a slightly smug look at you as if to say “Yes! I know I have the personality of a pine-cone, but tonight I’ll be getting some hot carnal action, unlike you!” That’s a real kick in the teeth, that is.
So I got on my bike and pedalled away, safe in the knowledge that there was a giant tub of Cookie Dough ice cream waiting for me when I got home.