Don’t pity singles, pity me!
To alleviate the panic this year, I will be attempting to go abroad with Mrs Geek
It’s Valentine’s Day pretty soon, as you’ve no doubt realised from the world’s sudden desire to shape everything into hearts and paint itself red, and that can only mean one thing. It’s time to feel unnecessarily awkward about being in a relationship when other people aren’t. Valentine’s Day must be the only holiday that actively segregates the population and hands out gold stars to one half of it. Even the bloody Christians let everyone else chuff down chocolate come Easter time.
I’m not about to troop out that tired line about Valentine’s Day being extremely unfair on the poor lonely sods that litter London. Screw those guys. It’s unfair on me. I get to double down on feelings of inadequacy and awkardness by simultaneously having to rub my relationship in everyone’s faces all day, and then feel bad whenever someone walks past with a marginally larger bouquet of flowers. I’m the dude visiting famine–stricken regions of China, only I’m there to attend a hotdog speed–eating competition.
One minute I feel like I’m dangling my sex life in the face of a second–year Physics student, and the next I’m being cock–slapped by some bulky arsehole from Medicine
It’s this state of panic that pisses me off. One minute I feel like I’m dangling my sex life in the face of a second–year Physics student, and the next I’m being cock–slapped by some bulky arsehole from Medicine. Do I put in my inflatable chest muscles when I don my shirt? Or do I grab the dark glasses, stuff the missus under my overcoat, and hope no–one notices me sneaking into South Kensington? Either sound like they’d lead to a lawsuit. Or a fight.
To alleviate some of the panic this year, I will be attempting to go abroad for a few days with Mrs. Geek. This will allow me to make up for any glaring cock–ups on the big day itself, whilst also putting me in a sufficiently alien environment that I can’t decipher the whispers of disapproval when I completely misread the opportunity for romantic moments.
If that doesn’t work, I plan to move to Columbia and stay there for six months of the year, as for some reason they only celebrate Valentine’s in September. This works for me, as I can set up my continent–spanning crime ring and get to work on my people–trafficking and corruption–mongering skills in time for my coup d’etat around the time of the next general election.
I’ve been assured by most action films that there’s nothing more romantic than a man in uniform, except one being saluted by sixty million deferent semi–loyal subjects. So claiming the throne of England would not only be an extremely attractive gift that keeps on giving, but I’d also be able to outlaw any trace of the day for the foreseeable future. Thank me later, readers.
So Happy Valentine’s Day to you, Mrs. Geek. This time next year, we’ll be sunning ourselves among the cocaine factories, dreaming of a Britain where I have banned the occasion altogether. Love you!
