Valentines day diary

7.00am – Wake to the realisation it’s the day. The day when my mum used to leave me an insurance Terry’s chocolate orange on the stairs in the morning lest I check out of February 14th empty handed. I haven’t been single on Valentines day for roughly 5 years and today, unfortunately, I am not in the same house as my dear mum, I’m an adult in a house where no one does my washing or leaves me insurance oranges on the stairs. This is bullshit.

8.30 am – Walk to the bus stop to get the stink wagon to work and Facebook pipes up with ‘Happy Valentines Day! Choose from a collection of cards you can share with friends and loved ones!’ None of those take my fancy – so I came up with a collection of my own.


9.00am – Get into work, make obligatory joke about not being able to get out of my door this morning through card mountain.

9.36 – Phone, desk, email, Facebook inbox, tinder and twitter showing no signs of admirers attempting contact. Actually start to feel a bit sad. Have a date tonight, but said date hasn’t text and I am currently in a self imposed ‘not texting men first’ high jinx, so I’ll just have to wait and see if this is to come to fruition.

Announce that when I come back from this meeting if there are no Lotharios gracing my communication devices I might be visibly upset. A lovely 25 year old male colleague (lets call him Tim) comforts me by promising that if that’s the case he’ll stick a ‘Happy Valentines’ post it to my phone screen.

10.35 – Back from my meeting. No fucking post it.

10.47 – Phone lights up with a text from a gentleman. Not the one I am meant to be going out with tonight. Still…Huzzah! It reads:


Radio silence? Then it dawns on me, we were meant to meet for a drink last night. Complain I have no boyfriend – completely neglect to attend dates. Tell him ‘if we forgot we were even meeting, maybe it isn’t destined to be the love story of the century?’ and make a mental note to start writing stuff down.

11.44am – Receive the below image in a message from a man on Facebook – It ain’t Keats, but I’ll take it.


11.53 am – Receive a daily news and lifestyle email, usually containing swanky cafes I’ll never visit, books I’ll never read and beauty products I’ll never buy and maybe an article about how the contraceptive pill will give you cancer. Today it’s headlined with the article ‘Why we’re happy to be single in our 30’s’ – cheeky bastards.

12.13 pm – Social media moaning must have worked, because my friend Kay feels sorry for me and asks me for a ‘dinner date’ (lunch in the work canteen). She shows up with flowers and a card.

12.50 pm – Tall, good looking blonde boy stares at me while I make my way to the bog. I assume he’s looking into the distance and I’m simply in the way. I look away. He doesn’t and I can feel his eyes burning into me. I look back up and he smiles. I manage a closed lip line smile and go bright red before scuttling right past him. Fuck. I’ve not seen him around before, maybe he’s been admiring me from afar? Sit pondering this and it dawns on me if I don’t get out of this cubicle soon he is 100% going to think I am having a poo. Hurry out of bogs.

1.27 pm – Head back to desk with flowers and receive a high pitched squeal of a welcome and have to admit loudly ‘My female friend got them for me’

5.00 pm – Head home on the bus – get a text from a colleague that works in another department saying: ‘Saw the flowers, so you had a good Valentines day then?!’ I consider telling him the truth and then decide, fuck it, he doesn’t know Kay.

5.34 pm – Arrive home to flatmate who announces she has chocolate, half a bottle of Pinot Grigio and facepacks and I tell her that tonight’s date hasn’t been in contact. ‘Text him then!’ she says. I explain that I’m meant to meet him at 8pm and we haven’t confirmed the exact place, just the street with lots of pubs on it. If he really wants to see me he will text to confirm, so unless he texts I’m not leaving the house to stand on a cold street on Valentines day on the off chance he shows up. She considers my logic for a second, then says: ‘In that case… you better go and get us another bottle of wine’

7.59 pm – It’s pretty clear my date isn’t coming, so a bottle and a half of wine down, flatmate and I are listening to very sub par pop from the 90’s and gobbing off about how we don’t need no men…when my phone lights up:

‘Hey, I’m here, where are you?’

Oh. Holy. Shit.

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