A single person’s guide to surviving Valentine’s Day

It’s that time of year again, folks, when love – or, more often, thinly veiled resentment – is all around us. Love is in The Card Factory, on the forecourt of your nearest petrol station and up the special offers aisle of supermarkets across the nation.

In the past few decades it has become common practice for us unloved singletons to mourn our out-there-somewhere soul mates on Valentine’s Day, but I say the time is nigh to be metaphorically slapped around the face with a wet fish; nobody ever fell in love with a frown, as they say. So, as February 14th approaches, here’s my definitive guide to showing Cupid that he can, quite frankly, fuck right off.

1.Take joy from the fact that this year you won’t have to muster your best faux-pleased face upon receipt of a truly shit gift.


2.Know that you won’t be feeding ‘The Man’ by purchasing over-priced confectionery. Make a point by spending an equal amount on normal chocolate. Eat said definitely-not-made-with-love chocolate with an acute awareness that you could afford to gorge on far more than your coupled counterparts.


3. Look at your parents. This applies to even the most blissful of matrimonies. Just observe how gross and bumpy people become when they stay together forever. Ew.

4. Take a gratuitous selfie. Be grateful that you can do a Beyoncé and ditch your Michelle. Allow a best friend (Kelly) in the shot if you really feel the need for an excuse. Watch the likes accumulate and #humblebrag on Twitter.

5. Have a big wank. I’m talking a curtains drawn, headphones in, lube at the ready, taking occasional fag breaks kind of wank. Sometimes known as the epic wank.

6. Watch a film where someone’s partner cheats or maybe even dies. Thank your lucky stars you don’t have to worry about that shit. If stuck for movie ideas, opt for any J-Lo film ever.

7. Wear your ugliest, comfiest pair of pants. Revel in them. Give zero fucks.

8. Learn a new skill so that when your friend bemoans “Simon took me out to that new restaurant but I think the oysters gave me food poisoning”, you can boast that you spent the night learning how to throw authentic artisan vases. Single life is so enriching.

9. Remind yourself that, for thousands of women, the consequence of a great V-Day is excruciating pain, heading their way in approximately 9 months.

10. Ruin a wedding. For those of you still struggling with the idea of being a dried up, lonely, old wench, this is guaranteed to banish those blues. There is little more vomit-worthy than a conceited Valentine’s Day wedding. Head to your local church or registry office and light an effigy of Cilla Black. You’ll leave feeling like Carrie Bradshaw on crack.


I’d rather be single.

It’s been a good six months since my last relationship and lately I’ve noticed my friends stepping up the pressure to get back in the dating game. Though their intentions are kind – they really do just think I deserve a decent big spoon – it seems odd to me that they regard being single as such a terrible situation. Yet, I thought we were past all that idealistic Bridget Jones bollocks about coupling up in order to find happiness – Mark Darcy died, people, the dream is over!


Now, I’m not a commitment-phobe, I don’t hate healthy relationships and I do ultimately hope to settle down with one special person. But every time I go on a date, even a good date, I go home feeling even more certain that right now I want to stay single. Why? Because I’m in a fucking awesome relationship with myself at the moment. For the past four years I’ve done the serial monogamy thing and I’ve done the LTR thing. The only thing I haven’t done is learning to be interesting and fun and alive without a partner in crime.

As a 22 year old I’m in a really lucky situation – I have a secure job, I have a great support network and I live in a city offers me everything I could want or need. I enjoy having nobody to answer to come the weekend and I like not knowing whether I’ll even be living in the UK in 6 months time. In short, I’m having fun.

And on the topic of, erm, fun… I’m not breaking any blog boundaries by admitting that I like/need sex, just like any other sane human being. Perhaps if having sex required having a boyfriend, this would be a massively different blog, but it doesn’t. It simply requires having access to gay bars and, if we’re being really honest, having access to certain apps. #Overshare.

The truth is, I wonder if people these days are so concerned with having all their shit together – which, in terms of image branding, is epitomised by a happy relationship – that they would rather be in a relationship with the wrong person than have to actually develop a life and a personality. I remember that after my last big break up, I felt like a complete shell of a person – I literally had no interests or, really, opinions as an individual. I’d invested more in being one half of a duo than I had in being me. I never want that to happen again, hence why right now I’d rather enjoy some me time than some us time.

So, for those of you stuck in the BJ era (Bridget Jones, you goons), I’d like to request an armistice between my relationship status and your pitying eyes. I am okay. Most single people are okay. I will occassionally eat ice cream but that is because I like ice cream, not because I am sad about being ‘alone’. When the time is right, and the guy is right, I’ll get back on the boyfriend wagon. For now, though, I’d rather be single.