I wasn’t actually going to post about Valentines Day today.
Not because I didn’t want to bleat on about how shitty Valentines Day is when you’re single. Not even because of all the restaurants that will be full to capacity tonight with last minute reservations – and how cringeworthy that is when you think on it. I didn’t even want to comment on the cheesiness of those guys who hijack your intimate, romantic meal to do the hard sell in noisy cellophane-wrapped roses.
The thing is, I actually didn’t even register it was Valentines Day today. The run up to it has completely passed me by! Don’t ask me how that could have happened having been assailed with it for the past 3 weeks. It’s been a very ‘red’ everywhere I look, hearts and flowers in every front shop window display and I can’t even turn the TV on without Valentine Day romantic feature films being advertised.
I woke up this morning – day off from work to take the dog to hydrotherapy – and it was just another Tuesday. Literally, the first moment I realised something was up was whilst taking Oscar the Staffy for a stroll around 11.30am and passing some heart-decorated trees and a street bollard wearing a knitted Valentines Day jumper (well this IS Hackney)! It struck me then. Hello – it’s VDay!
The scales fell from my eyes and it was as if every person I passed had only just realised as well. Pounding the streets with Oscar, everyone seemed to be holding hands or in some form of embrace. And it was only lunch time!
As I walked past the chirruping couples and a postman sweating under the weight of bent envelopes, I briefly wondered whether there would be anything in my postbox when I got home. I fleetingly visualised a snowman-chancing-it-in-hell, although I knew there would be one from my mum in there.
It’s the sweetest thing, but the first time she did it, I thought it was from a legitimate admirer and hyperventilating, ripped open the envelope to find an anonymous card with a photograph of a rose immersed in a pearl necklace. WTF! My brain cranked into gear; reading between the lines, finding subliminal meanings in the photograph and somehow coming to the conclusion that this was the work of a sick bastard.
Later that evening, I spoke to my mum who consoled me over my continued lack of admirers. I told her that I did receive a card, but it had been in bad taste and was cheap and disgusting. Who the hell would send a card like that if they were trying to impress someone? I continued to diss the card and it’s sender in no uncertain terms, whilst the ringing silence on the other end of the phone told me clearly that mum must have had something to do with it….unfortunately my mouth was still in hyperdrive. By the time I had finished, you could have heard a pin drop.
That day has never left me (and that was in 1985). The mortification was real.
So tonight what am I going to do? Well, I intend to go to my post box, open my mums card and ring her to say thanks for her thoughtful gesture (even if it wasn’t from her, I am going to wax lyrical about it). Then me and Oscar the Staffy are going to cuddle up on the sofa in front of a horror movie, whilst I suck on lozengers to ease my raw throat and he will give me all the love I need.
Happy Valentines Day 🙂
P.s. I arrived home to find my card from mum. It’s lovely and NOT anonymised – I think mum has always remembered that day too! Happy Valentines xxx