I have very conflicted feelings about Valentine’s Day. The thing is, I was single for around a decade before Matt came along, and during that time I was pretty anti the whole shebang. I mean, it’s just a made up day designed to sell cards and flowers, right?
Well, yes. And also, as a single person, I’d feel a bit grumpy about my single status while watching most of the couples I knew get into arguments over the weight of expectation on V-Day. It just all seemed a bit odd, to me.
Now, though, I’m in a relationship, and torn between my anti-Valentine’s feelings and, y’know, quite wanting to be given a big box of chocolates. I'd also accept some more Melissa/Westwood shoes like these. So I always think of what my friend told me she did to mark Valentine’s with her husband: “We just use it as an excuse to have something really nice to eat.” Now THAT’S a message I can get behind.
However, when you’re moving out of your flat on the 13th and 14th February, your options are a little limited for nice meals. After all, the oven was coated in Oven Pride, the plates and cutlery were all packed, and we were too exhausted and scruffy to go out anywhere. So we ended up having a pizza picnic on the floor of our mostly-empty living room instead, our plastic wine glasses full of Fanta and Coke.
I’m not sure if it was romantic or not in the end, but it did give me the chance to declare my feelings for my true love... pizza. Happy Eat-Something-You-Like Day, everyone!