Is there anything sadder than writing a blog post about Valentine’s day?
Yes. You could write a blog post about Valentine’s day wearing a t-shirt that says ‘I ❤ ME’ while listening to Spotify’s Independent Ladies playlist. Not that I’m doing that right now.
Things weren’t always like this. As a child, I adored Valentine’s day. For as long as it fit me and perhaps even when it didn’t, I wore a matching red & white love heart top and skirt combo annually. Hoping for my prince charming to offer me his jacket, I’d refuse to wear a coat or tights with my outfit despite it being about 5 degrees outside. I also prepared heart shaped jam sandwiches in honour of the occasion, even though I really didn’t like jam all that much. Yet I was never rewarded for my efforts. In fact, I think I was punished for my foolish optimism.
There was the Valentine’s day where my childhood sweetheart gave me a card and two chocolates BUT gave my best friend the exact same. He was a player. A cheap one too, like seriously two chocolates? There was the year my twin sister received a gigantic card from the class ride while I was left cardless. There was the year of the Valentine’s day card mix-up which is better told by my ’09 diary:
If you’re wondering, those diary entries are written in the blood of my “friends” who betrayed me. Following those traumatic experiences, I became a little bit more bitter about the whole Valentine’s hullabaloo. I began to wear my ‘I ❤ ME’ top every year, except for one year where I opted for my ‘I don’t need you, I have the internet’ t-shirt.
But last year, I had convinced myself it would be different. Last year, I had a little hope. Last year, it was the first year I had a boyfriend leading up to Valentine’s day. Would we have a candlelit dinner, a romantic cycle or a shift at the racecourse? The possibilities were endless! That was until the Friday before Valentine’s when I got a call offering me a job trial in a local restaurant. I shared this exciting news with my lovely boyfriend who replied “you’re not going to have enough time for me, I think we should go on a break”. This is how I ended up on the ground crying on the second day of my first job on Valentine’s of 2016. Let me describe the scene for you. It was two days after I had sort of been broken up with. I was emotionally unstable. I had endured a day of serving happy lovebirds. I had just spilled beer all over a lad’s back.
So this year, I’m back to wearing my aforementioned ‘I ❤ ME’ top and I’m really not looking forward to yet another night of serving happy lovebirds in a restaurant where I am the only single person. And if you’re thinking it’s in the same restaurant as last year, you’re wrong, understandably they never called me back after the incident. Next year, I think I’ll do a Dwight on it. But n