During the first week of January (when I went to stock up on Creme Eggs), I briefly thought about boycotting my local newsagent.
On leaving the store I was brutally confronted with a huge display under the banner ‘Winter Essentials’.
Alongside the de-icer, Arctic-proof gloves and those grip things you attach to your shoes, was a stand full of Valentine’s cards, plastic red roses and cheap teddies holding sateen hearts. Pah.
So having a significant other is now a Winter Essential? Double pah.
Not long after, I had an email offering me and my significant other a ‘truly romantic experience on that most romantic day of the year’ at my local gastro-pub. A glass of cheap sparkling wine on arrival, a wilted red rose for ‘the lady’ and a three course lovingly-prepared meal to ‘tingle the palate’. And all for only £42 a head. Are they having a laugh?
The evil-singleton side of me toyed with the idea of schlepping along on that most romantic of days, sitting in the bar and watching awkward couples crammed into the restaurant. But that’s a bit mean. Isn’t it?
Maybe I should launch myself back onto the dating scene? There’s a few problems with that though:
- I still dress like a student and don’t wear strappy heels. And I haven’t mastered the art of a sophisticated up-do.
- I would yawn my way though dates, and not solely because my companion is regaling me with tales of his pot-holing.
- I still need to lose a few
My friends and family are very encouraging though. ‘It’s not about the MS, it’s about you, who you are.’ ‘You have lovely eyes.’ (what they say to fat people). And my ever-adoring son, ‘Have you sent off your application for the next series of The Undateables yet?’
Well I reckon we should scrap Valentine’s Day. Let’s have a new celebration, Singleton Day. This would involve buying an M&S meal-deal for a tenner (including a bottle of wine) and scoffing/quaffing the whole lot on our own, with ‘I Will Survive’ playing on a loop in the background. We could encourage our friends to send us boxes of chocolates to help us ease the pain. Three layers of mascara would be an essential, all the better to show our tears with.
So spare a thought for us sad, lonely, slipper-wearing, talking-to-the-cat peeps. And all donations of recycled men gratefully received…..