Oh, Saint Valentine, God love you, whoever you were, whoever cares who you were. I can’t imagine what you may have looked like, without checking Google. So let’s guess, using the acquired evidence. Tedious desire for everyone to love each other = probable loose woollen poncho; easier to force hugs with. Ugg boots, because comfort is key in regards to love, but with no expense spared. No doubt he listens to a lot of Lionel Richie and Celine Dione on a loop via cassette walkman. I’d say that Saint Valentine is a wannabe Jesus in his belief that he is spreading love to all, saying ‘Good luck in your search’, to every Single in a creepy, lip-twitching way. Basically he’s the greasy guy working at Co-op who touches your hand when he passes you change.
I’m a lot less bitter this year about Valentine’s Day than I have been in previous years – does it show?
I understand that it’s nice to have a day in which you can celebrate (or be disappointed in) your wonderful, perfect partner(s? Love Polygamy?). But I’m going to channel a bit of Carrie Bradshaw here – and I’m aware that many just crossed off, if they didn’t at the mention of a poncho – what day of the week is KISS/LICK THE MIRROR DAY? One could say it falls on the 1st January, a day in which you invest time and effort into your future self. Well that’s a lie, I’ve already warned you that January is a feeder and does not have your best interests at heart.
What are you doing this Valentine’s Day to save your soul? I’m going to dinner with my sister, a Marine Wag, and watching the new Muppets film for some of that inter-species eye candy that has become so rare these days. But if you need to call a Samaritan this Valentine’s, here are some ideas that you can either embrace, or spectacularly reject in order to feel some level of control, over anything.
- Bath. Baths. Are. The best. Whack on some Barry White, because you have better taste than Saint Valentine, and soak in some sort of intensely scented ass’s milk. You are the Cleopatra of your own domain, and no one is going to burst in and pollute your air.
- Call. You have friends/family that are single? If you have legitimate reasons why you aren’t drinking yourselves into oblivion, then have a whole night of catch-up calls. Drink milk – it might squirt out of your nose when you laugh. If you haven’t bathed in it all. Mmm, milk.
- Star Wars Marathon Sex and the City Marathon. Typo.
- Slap Up Dinner. Steak, McCain home fries, glass of red, little dessert in a cute glass pot; now THAT is what I’m talkin’ about. Coming from someone who constantly relates food to emotions this may be one you want to ignore, but why? Tears make the best sprinkles.
- Nude Jive. Self-explanatory. No one should hate their reflection on Kiss the Mirror day. Nothing crazy, just a few air thrusts, some thigh slaps, y’know. Also if you’ve got some decorating that needs doing, a large naked arse covers a lot of wall space and creates a butterfly print that is just exquisite.
- Congregation of Super Best Friends. I mean this has to be the best Valentine’s cure ever. If you’re lucky enough to have an unattached posse willing to occupy the space around you on February 14th, congratulations, you have no reason to be reading this. Now line up the tequila slammers/Wii nunchucks/knitting patterns.
- Jungle Bed Bug. Girls… why not savour the fact that no one knows you’ve let yourself ‘grow out’ since… oh, ever. Completely cocoon yourself in soft, fleecy layers and watch… some very enjoyable movie. You’re a stranger to a razor, thus warmer than Chewbacca er… Jude Law in a onesie.
- Any Other Day. Get through work, an average microwave meal and a few mundane odd jobs; then when a romantic, saxaphoney M&S ad comes on, think ‘Oh yeah – forgot.’ Well done, you’ve done Kiss/Lick the Mirror Day proud. If you’re single that is; otherwise, you may have an uncomfortable phone call coming your way. Or worse. Best seal off your letterbox.
And don’t touch THE NOTEBOOK; what are you a Masochist? There is another way. Now go bathe, you sexy bastard.