I am afraid that this post reveals some of my “not so hidden shallows“, as the saying goes. Ah, how I love 14th February! As most single people will probably agree, the best thing about Valentine’s Day must be the day after.  I am not quite sure when Valentine’s Day became a date to dread, but for some reason I do get into a state about it. Every year.

And yet, I always hope that this will be the year that a boyfriend and / or “secret admirer” will do the decent thing and a) exist and b) visit my office with a large bunch of flowers.  Nothing too over stated you understand; just something significant enough for me to worry about how I will get them home.

The only thing worse than February 14th in the office is February 14th on the Tube journey home as you eye up other people’s bouquets. Or is that just me? (Once in The City I saw one girl make ingenious use of a document box with her law firm’s name on, so great was the weight of blooms that she had to carry to her hot date that evening).

A short history of love

In times past, I had a covert understanding with my late friend Chris, who would see to it that I not only received a fabulous bunch of my favourite yellow roses, but he would also make sure that they were wrapped in enough cellophane to ensure that you heard them before you saw them. The flowers would be accompanied by a card from a “secret admirer” and would get me through what would otherwise be the most miserable day of the year – bar the day before payday every January.

Whilst at school, me and my friend Justin would send each other a card to ease the pain, an arrangement that worked brilliantly until the day he actually got himself a girlfriend and sent me a card from Clinton’s (!) with the 99 pence price tag still on it (!!) containing the memorable message: “To a brilliant friend. From Justin” (!!!).  In biro.

I don’t have enough exclamation points to describe this heinous crime against friendship. I do recall kicking the offending item around our kitchen as my mother remarked I had very high expectations and that it was the thought that counted… I also recall screeching that I couldn’t show the card to anyone at school (which was the whole point of receiving a Valentine’s card in those days) and that was that. On reflection, I think I had probably spent longer in sticking the stamp on the card that I would choose carefully for him each year than he had in the execution of the whole process.

Table for two?

Still, the advent of February got me thinking that this can also be a rather miserable time of year to be part of a couple.  Imagine  feeling that you have to go out for an £80.00 meal that by rights should cost £40.00… and also having to pretend you enjoy sharing a pudding (served in a heart shaped ramekin, naturally) whilst being surrounded by a selection of angry looking and silent couples who have vowed to “give it one more chance” this year.

Which brings me back to…..first dates

I do love it when well meaning friends set people up and long may it continue.  (I have  a 100 % track record in matchmaking). And I am always thinking of who would go with who else I know. When it comes to introducing two people who you think would be great together, always mean it when you say you will introduce them and always help where you can.

Sometimes, it can go wrong and in that case, cut it short, gulp your Pimm’s (On one occasion I was also tempted to eat the fruit in the glass with my bare hands) and leg it as politely as you can. Warning signs are too much mystery:  “I’m writing a book at the moment but I can’t tell you what it’s about”.  Oh, how fascinating.  Thank you for that.

After the terrible date I refer to above, I received a text from the man in question holding forth that “One day you will be a beautiful shining light in some man’s life, but not in mine”.  Naturally I was both relieved and fascinated to hear this, especially when it woke me up in the middle of the night.  If it doesn’t work out, I think there are better things to do than waste even a penny on replying a message like this.

I decided that I would sooner spend every Saturday night for the next six months by myself than risk one more evening with someone like him.  And that line was very funny.  In hindsight. So far, those solo Saturdays are going well, ladies!

Can we just be friends?

Personally, I think that the dating minefield could be avoided if someone, somewhere had the foresight to open a new kind of bar.  Called “I just want to be friends”, this hostelry would be for those indecisive men to take their confused female friends to in the hope of giving them the message that they are never going to be those sort of friends.  It may sound harsh, but how many of us have got ten years to waste being Emma in One Day before going under a lorry? (That was a beautiful book and marvellous film by the way, but I rather fear it may have given some of us  more false hope).

Back to the pub, where only soft drinks or single measures would be served under a glaring and unflattering light.  In order to stop girls from having great expectations about the potential excitement of being walked home that night, the place would shut at 9.00pm with separate exits for men and women.

It’s the sort of place that would have been ideal for one man I rather liked the look of to take me for a drink – even now his email suggesting “Why don’t we pencil in something for the week after next….” brings back fond memories.   I am also thinking up a chain of restaurants for couples to break up in.  Before you do the deed, menus with set options would be provided: “Set Menu A – It’s Not You It’s Me, or Set Menu B, I Just Don’t Think I’m Ready for A Relationship Right Now”.  Sound good? Separate bills, obviously!

But after all that, I do live in hope of having someone to spend money on in the sea of pink and red cards in Paperchase next year, not least because it’s one of my favourite shops. So, I am leaving you with a lovely picture from an exhibition about Love that I saw at the National Gallery some years ago.  Because there are 364 other days of the year and, at the end of the day, what we all want is a happy ending, and not just on February 14th.