lulz, society

Valentine’s Day Massacre

Well it’s that time again. On Saturday, hoards of couples will be sitting in overpriced Italian restaurants being upsold on wine, roses and aging violinists as the waiting staff take full advantage of the fact that they know the diners are captive prey, snared by the societal pressure to monetarise our feelings. Other couples will be sitting in their flats, having had their yearly argument caused by their differing interpretations of “let’s not do anything” against a backdrop of cooling pizza and ‘Old School’ on DVD playing in silence in the background.

Whilst those of a singleton bent will go one of two ways. Some will throw themselves with gusto into a night out with other partnerly-challenged friends, bemoaning the opposite sex for the first couple of drinks, pining for lost loves for the next couple and hooking up with a chubby, criminally dressed girl in the later part of the evening. The others will cook themselves a romantic dinner for one and put on a mildly amusing movie to mask their overpowering existential dread whilst also making a militant list of steps they are going to take to ensure they aren’t sitting eating Moussaka alone again this time next year.

I hear that there are couples and singletons alike who actually enjoy Valentine’s Day, although I’m yet to see quantitative or qualitative evidence to support this.

Don’t worry though, we’re here to help. Firstly by pointing you in the direction of where to spend your Anti-Valentine’s Day. My Ex Boyfriend’s Records are hosting a night at the scenester clusterfuck known as the Old Blue Last on Saturday, which should provide tunes good enough to make you forget about John from Accounts, the lying shit.

Secondly, if like me, in the words of Final Fantasy, you could fill up a lake with all the things you didn’t say, wait no longer. I found the following video on Youtube, which in a DIY, cutesy way I think is pretty cool. Also, the English chick’s voice over adds to the allure (I wonder what she’s doing on Saturday?).  Just hook up the link, send it to the hoards of people you have been e-stalking for the last year and watch the offers of torrid, unspeakably filthy love affairs roll in…

Finally, picture the scene…you have, in some ‘black swan’-esque fluke of probability, convinced your date to come back to your place on Saturday…you’ve stolen the dregs of your housemate’s Cava that’s been in the fridge since your NYE houseparty…conversation is still flowing and you move to your hastily tidied room…but what’s this…no suitable music…you didn’t quite get round to the ‘it’s business time’ playlist…well help it as hand…

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