Valentine’s Day. God help me. I can practically hear Chopin’s funeral march while my 53-year-old aunt takes me to La Senza to pick up lingerie for herself while I buy pyjamas (true story).

You’re celebrating Valentine’s Day this year, and I’ll work on my happiness for you, but do us all a favour and for the love of God, keep the celebration to a minimum. No one cares what you do for Valentine’s Day and I can promise you that your single friends don’t want to hear about it. “Can I get your opinion on what I should wear tonight?” No. What do I care? I bought myself pyjamas; you already know what my plans are. Don’t rub it in.

And hey, having a day set aside for couples is not the biggest problem with Valentine’s Day. I’ve made my peace with the, oh, let’s call it “holiday”. No, my biggest problem is that I should be able to walk into a restaurant with my friend and get a table when I’m hungry. Don’t deny the fat girl her plate of balsamic chicken just so your girlfriend can order a salad and then eat all your grease-soaked fries.

And I know what you’re thinking while reading this. “You’re just bitter that you’re single.” Ah, yes. That must be it. I long for a relationship. Yeah, that’s the problem. Single girls are bitter girls. This is the logic of the fine specimen who tell their friends that the girl who rejected him was a lesbian.

Being single ain’t a problem. To quote Russell Dunbar from Rules of Engagement: “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go do whatever I want… all the time.”


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