My Bloody Valentine

Another year, another annoying and grating February holiday. St. Valentine’s Day. If I had to live in a world where Valentines was hyped up an inch more than it already is, I would exile myself to a Castaway-like island and shun myself from this sad and obsessed land.

Oh how I despise it. It’s just another excuse for Clinton cards, Moonpig- and FunkyPigeon.com to make a fortune out of poor, conned fools. A piece of folded paper with some insincere and mass-produced words printed in a supposedly sophisticated slanty writing. Ooh, I’m feeling the love. Every programme on seems to spin their advert into some form of Valentines entertainment. I think the one that astounded me the most was the beginning of the Championship League, saying that you should watch it this February 14^th. Seriously? If any guy tried that with me, they would be out the door faster than they could say football. And as for Tesco’s advert – chocolate, Häagen Dazs and alcohol sound like the perfect recipe for fattening a woman up to cook for Sunday dinner, not a romantic evening in. And they’re all at it – “eat my food, sweet couples, feel fat, bloated and fall asleep early in front of the TV. Happy Valentine’s suckers...” They seem to be calling more to the singles watching the television instead of the coupled. Ice-cream and chocolates lead only to an all you can eat buffet of self-pity, and a soppy chick flick marathon ending with Titanic, before curling up in the foetus position with a bottle of whatever is closest to hand wailing away to Jamie O’Neal’s All By Myself. Smother yourself with chocolate my friends: it will love you and treasure you like no human ever can! Amongst all these false and annoying moments through the day, I await the genius that should surely come from at least one chocolate brand that speaks directly to the single people - they would make enough money to rival Bill Gates.

Then there’s the rest of the merchandise – how dare they sell teddy bears in the name of Valentine! No! It is an outrage! Teddy bears are the sole comfort for the lonely at night, someone to cuddle in the recesses of a dark night: it is not fair that they would take this and give it to those in a relationship. And as for the “luxury lingerie” that men give their partners – who are they really for? I mean really. That’s just a present for yourself now isn’t it? And 99% of Valentines jewellery are bought last minute from the local pound shop. These presents are given under false pretences and an increasing amount of pressure from society to conform to such insincerity.

I would like to point out at this point that this is not a rant spawned of bitter twistedness as many would assume; I am not stewing in a lonely pit of depression, surrounded by eighteen cats and bunnies in boiling pots – and although there are more chocolate wrappers around me than around a sane person, this is down to my addiction to Milka. Who knew Heaven could come from a cow? In truth, my hatred of this holiday is the same as that of Christmas. It is over-hyped, over-priced and has lost any valuable and earnest meaning. The holiday has become more about the flash of cash and material value than the actual show of love and caring. Plus the fact I have always thought that it is stupid that one day is singled out to tell someone how much you love them. Surely you should be made to feel special every day of the year – to make someone feel more loved once a year is nice, I’ll admit, but sucks to be around on February 15^th when everything returns to normal. Seems more damaging than anything else – showing you how good things could get then returning to normal within 24 hours.

Still I can’t complain – at least it is over faster than Christmas. Though you are still burdened with the people around you. I find there are two type of couples around at this time of year – those that treat Valentines like another day and don’t go all out; and those that get together on the 13^th and break up on the 15^th and spend the rest of the month cramming their jewellery-from-a-cracker under your nose in a suffocatingly smug manner until you want to punch the smirk off their face. Honestly, shove it in my face one more time and it really will be a bloody Valentine.

Still, I wanted to impart only one message with this blog – that in truth there is only one Tuesday that matters this February. So keep calm, and wait for Pancake Day.