In case you live in a cave, I would like to inform you that tomorrow is Valentine's day. In case you've lived in that cave for long enough to have Backstreet Boys-resembling hieroglyphics on its walls, I would like to fill you in on how you should look/act on the day.
a) If you are loved-up, in a happy relationship and have generally speaking no imagination, let him spend £10 on one rose and three pieces of chocolate in a heart shaped box, chuck on a red dress and be a happy valentine.
If however, you happen to be
b) single/recently dumped/recently fed up or a closeted asexual, all you have to do this (and every) valentine's is get Bridget Jones on the TV, a tub of Ben and Jerry's, your least sexy sleepwear and some tissues (depending on whether you're a girl or boy, these can be used in different ways but will probably come in hand-y in both cases. line? what line? I see no line)
These are your ONLY valentine's options. Yes, I'm putting you in boxes. Stereotypes. Black and White.
I know this is usually the bit where I share anecdote's about my past valentines day's experience but this time, I won't. I've been happy, sad, single, loved up, ill, too young, too cynical on the actual day over the years but despite my love life happenings, I've never been interested in the significance of it. It's just always been the 14th of February. Feline out of the tote.
Over the years, I've gone through all the stages of cynicism concerning this day. My angry brainwashed teenage self with lack of own opinions, breasts and therefore dates, preached about it being too commercial. My single, dumped on facebook and not ready to mingle early twenties self fought about the pressure it put on people. My last couple of years loved up self was determine that love should be celebrated every day. My doubting myself self wondered often if i was just trying to be alternative. My today interning self finds roses too expensive and a bit of a cliche. But I actually think, I finally got to the bottom of it and came to the conclusion that my one big problem with Valentine's day, under the spectrum of which all my little problems fall under is: painful lack of imagination.
If you happen to walk past a restaurant tomorrow, adorned by paper hearts and roses, try and have a look at the tables. They're going to be packed with people eating over priced meals. More importantly, the vast majority of girls will be wearing red dresses.
LADIES! NYFW is happening, have a look, get inspired!! Designer's seem to be bumming those mid-lenght skirts at the moment... not sexy enough for you? right, step back a season and wear a nappy shaped pair of shorts. Not the right message? Fine! wear your silky Lipsy dress but pick a different colour.
I think I'm going to start a movement called : ONE LESS RED DRESS. For every photo of you not in a red dress, you get one shout out on twitter...
Fine, do whatever you want.
But just FYI I'm building a den in my living room because I am in love and despite being very happy about it, I don't celebrate it every day as I'm often tired, grumpy, annoyed by him. So I'll let some of my cynicism subside and celebrate it, with a picnic, under some sheets resembling a teepee tent with the loyal support of a couple of chairs. And I will probably be looking like this:
because, you know, I'm a rebel without a cause.
a) If you are loved-up, in a happy relationship and have generally speaking no imagination, let him spend £10 on one rose and three pieces of chocolate in a heart shaped box, chuck on a red dress and be a happy valentine.
If however, you happen to be
b) single/recently dumped/recently fed up or a closeted asexual, all you have to do this (and every) valentine's is get Bridget Jones on the TV, a tub of Ben and Jerry's, your least sexy sleepwear and some tissues (depending on whether you're a girl or boy, these can be used in different ways but will probably come in hand-y in both cases. line? what line? I see no line)
These are your ONLY valentine's options. Yes, I'm putting you in boxes. Stereotypes. Black and White.
I know this is usually the bit where I share anecdote's about my past valentines day's experience but this time, I won't. I've been happy, sad, single, loved up, ill, too young, too cynical on the actual day over the years but despite my love life happenings, I've never been interested in the significance of it. It's just always been the 14th of February. Feline out of the tote.
Over the years, I've gone through all the stages of cynicism concerning this day. My angry brainwashed teenage self with lack of own opinions, breasts and therefore dates, preached about it being too commercial. My single, dumped on facebook and not ready to mingle early twenties self fought about the pressure it put on people. My last couple of years loved up self was determine that love should be celebrated every day. My doubting myself self wondered often if i was just trying to be alternative. My today interning self finds roses too expensive and a bit of a cliche. But I actually think, I finally got to the bottom of it and came to the conclusion that my one big problem with Valentine's day, under the spectrum of which all my little problems fall under is: painful lack of imagination.
If you happen to walk past a restaurant tomorrow, adorned by paper hearts and roses, try and have a look at the tables. They're going to be packed with people eating over priced meals. More importantly, the vast majority of girls will be wearing red dresses.
LADIES! NYFW is happening, have a look, get inspired!! Designer's seem to be bumming those mid-lenght skirts at the moment... not sexy enough for you? right, step back a season and wear a nappy shaped pair of shorts. Not the right message? Fine! wear your silky Lipsy dress but pick a different colour.
I think I'm going to start a movement called : ONE LESS RED DRESS. For every photo of you not in a red dress, you get one shout out on twitter...
Fine, do whatever you want.
But just FYI I'm building a den in my living room because I am in love and despite being very happy about it, I don't celebrate it every day as I'm often tired, grumpy, annoyed by him. So I'll let some of my cynicism subside and celebrate it, with a picnic, under some sheets resembling a teepee tent with the loyal support of a couple of chairs. And I will probably be looking like this:
