What God no I don’t want to go out on Valentine’s Day, worst night of the year, have you never been to a restaurant on Valentine’s, all those desperate couples silently hating each other across the table, trying to recapture the old magic, with a single dead rose on every table, all those aphrodisiac menus? Be hilarious if it wasn’t so tragic.
You know it’s not even a proper historical thing? Course I know about Shakespeare, you think he would’ve bought an M&S Valentine’s dinner for two, give me a break, up till a couple of hundred years ago it was poetry and stuff, now it’s another giant commercialised rip-off so I hope you’re not expecting anything on Tuesday, are you, because to be honest I’d rather saw off my right arm than pretend to be all romantic for a day, waste a fortune on massive show-off flowers and pink champagne or some crap balloon saying I love you, when I could tell you that, completely spontaneously, any day of the year. If I wanted.
Why is Valentine’s Day any different from yesterday or tomorrow? I’ll tell you, only because they realised it was a brilliant way to make a fortune fleecing the boyfriends of millions of needy women, course I don’t mean you, you wouldn’t be that stupid, I don’t think I could really love someone who liked Valentine’s Day.
It’s cruel, actually, getting people all stressed over whether they’ll get flowers at work or a surprise mini-break, even if I liked Valentine’s Day – which I don’t – I wouldn’t do it on principle. Nope, not even a card.
Do you have any idea how many of those cards get recycled, it’ll be straight to landfill, with all the glitter, and all for what, just making someone think they’re special – I wouldn’t insult you that way. Nice? What’s nice about being exploited by Hallmark? Or all those kids worrying nobody’s going to send them a Valentine, not that I ever worried about not getting one – no, never – what kind of idiot wants a card saying I love you?
