I've never really been sure how I feel about Valentine's Day. I went through the usual "it was made up by card companies" malarkey which was a) easily solved by not buying/allowing to be bought for me red roses, valentines specific cards, or chocolates, and b) not true anyway (at least according to something I read which isn't verified by wikipedia so probably isn't true either), and I'm beyond that now. But I do think the year it meant the most to me was the year I was single for it; every other year it's been relatively unimportant.
I wrote that yesterday. Today, after the twentieth sweet middle-aged office drone came in to buy something his valentine probably won't like that much, and my friend whose boyfriend is in Denmark found a rose outside and we pathetically brought it in and set it up on the counter like it belonged to us, I realised it's not unimportant. It's like Mother's day; it's kind of made-up, and a bit annoying, but it exists, and because it does, I want to mark it - I don't need it, but I want it. I don't want to be watching New Girl (which is not good, as predicted, but I will probably watch it week after week, as predicted), going to Food Alley to get dinner for one, eating an entire box of chocolates, and feeling sad and mad because Vincent's dj-ing and the screening of The Princess Bride at the park that I was going to watch with my lovely friends and not sit here feeling sad and mad, watching New Girl, getting dinner for one and eating an entire box of chocolates, was cancelled.
I had originally planned to post a playlist of my favourite love songs, but I don't feel like it. Tell me to shout myself a smile, but if I'm self-indulgent in my fantasies, I think it's only fair to be self-indulgent in my reality once in a while. But I do hope you're having a Happy Valentines Day; the world isn't big enough for too many Scrooges.
Whoppppidy doo! Okay, now I'm done.