My Funny Valentine
It is once again that traumatic time of year when you try to lie about how many cards you received to hide your crushing disappointment whilst all the while thinking: it’s come in the second post, or it’ll come tomorrow, but knowing that if anyone cared they would have made sure you got it before you picked up this copy of Felix, and you know that if you haven’t got one yet, it’s safe to say you’re going yet another year without. This year, I’ll have done the same thing any self respecting young man should. Cheat. Count the card from your mum. Use last year’s cards from that ex-girlfriend you said that you would have no more to do with. And those from the year before. Tell everyone you got e-valentines that morning. Walk around with a smug grin refusing to reveal how many you got. Claim the most obscure newspaper Valentine’s message as being a coded epistle of undying love directed solely at you, even if this means radically altering your known life story to date. The worst thing you can do at this time is admit defeat, and if this means sacrificing your personal dignity, so be it.
So, that’s the morning’s lectures out of the way, and the afternoon can be survived by pretending to do work. This leaves Valentine’s night, which for some is more disturbing than the morning. Those of you lucky enough to have some kind of pre-organised tryst need not read on, but for the rest of humanity, and those of you who are lying, fear not, help is at hand. According to a random woman in the office, it is imperative not to spend a sad night in, cynically avoiding all mention of Valentine’s Day, and playing Quake/ watching slushy films/ getting skullfucked on cheap wine. No the solution is to swallow your rapidly shrinking pride, put on your finest party clobber and, that’s right, go to the Union, get drunk in the corner and watch everyone getting off with each other. No, that’s not right… If you plan, scheme and generally strain your virgin brow, you can be one of the deliriously happy few. Look around you, see the girl splayed out on the floor by the vending machine. She’s obviously off her face, sobbing heartbrokenly to her best mate about never finding true love and all that girlie bollocks. Seize your moment, lose the friend, "talk your meaningless profound crap" (said the same random office wench) and abuse your position as the benevolent knight in shining armour. The deed is done, you will get your kicks and she will remember none of it and probably fall asleep halfway through.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
COMPETITION
For true style points though, it is you who must do something romantic, and this is where Felix can help you...
Those lovely people at IRP Promotions sent us news of the first ever "virtual careers fair", which has been organised by Gradunet for the 26th February. To celebrate this event, Reuters, the leading global financial information and news provider are giving away two train tickets to Paris as a prize on a web-based comp @ www.gradunet.co.uk Explains Gradunet MD Adam Bass: "Students can communicate with employers even if their university doesn’t have a milkround." Right.
Mr Trout has still not got a girlfriend.
