Day 45: a TV slut does Valentine’s Day February 15, 2012

So there wasn’t the trashy card, nor the bouquet, nor the lover on the doorstep.
I wasn’t mortified in work by a gesture hugely romantic or otherwise…but I couldn’t have cared less.
Maybe, after all my anticipation, it is easier to be single on Valentine’s Day than it is to either live up to or be disappointed by a lover’s expectations (and yes I realise that there are those lovers who didn’t disappoint and happiness abounds…but keep it to yourself ok? I’m trying to write a blog here.)

So there wasn’t ‘romantic’ love in my Valentine’s Day but there was love: there was the ‘love’ I showed my Yr14 girls when I took them on a field trip to the school ‘tuck’ shop for chocolate before giving them a long list of half term. I was witness to parental love at (yet another) parents’ afternoon; as we all try to survive our navigation the treacherous waters of the teenage temperament.

But then, the night belonged to me. I got to spend the night imagining myself in various romantic situations with the men I ‘fantastically’ date in TV land: the sexy surf dude Dr on er, the quarterback in Friday Night Lights, a new American Football Drama I’m considering being a cheerleader for, (my friend GD tried to explain the rules of the game, an act of friendship or love in itself- still don’t get it though)and my very favourite date from the Tuesday night schedule: my man in uniform, Jamie Reagan in Blue Bloods. I had a bubble bath, and got into bed with Mad Men’s Don Draper.

I survive significant, difficult and important holidays every year. This was just a Tuesday night: Valentine’s Day can belong to the lovers who make it work for them; I got TV to watch.

Valentine’s Day Eve: Day 44 February 13, 2012

I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love

Carrie Brashaw

I hate that I care that it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I hate that I would quite enjoy being surprised and mortified by a huge bouquet of roses/ some other ridiculously over the top gesture as I sit at my desk in school. I hate that I will come home and there will not be a lover on my doorstep, or in his absence the said bouquet or even a trashy card (those sent by friends/ well meaning relatives/ companies prostituting themselves for my business don’t count) and I hate that I will be genuinely disappointed.

Yes, it’s commercial. Yes, its tacky. Yes, if you love someone you should find ways of showing and telling them on the other 364 days of the year and not when prompted by the not so good people at Hallmark.

And it’s not even a historically accurate event! No one really knows who St Valentine even was…according to my highly detailed research (Wikipedia) he may one person or lots of people…He may have been martyred for joining Christians together in holy matrimony. He may have died for love.

There’s a part of me embraces though: a day dedicated to love, to romance, to the Zsa,Zsa,Zsu. There is something quite wonderful about celebrating this ‘write me a song or sonnet’ emotion.

Even as a jaded, increasingly jaded 30 something singleton, I like that Valentine’s Day makes me reconsider love and it’s place in my world.