(No) Card Carrying Singleton

So, as the years trundle on, I find myself less and less bothered by Valentine's Day. When you're a teen, there's little worse than the fact that no-one fancies you for 364 days of the year has to be reinforced and rammed home in such a specific and humiliating way on this particular day. It's totally crushing. Luckily, I spent most of my teenage years at an all-girls convent school and the only boys I knew at home were the vicar's son (a goth whom I suspect would have scorned declarations of love in favour of hanging out in the graveyard with a stuffed crow or something) and a very studious chap who was a whizz with an organ. No, not that kind. So there was no expectation of a card, and thus not much disappointment. It was only properly bad when I went to a boys' school for my A-levels and there was a massive disparity between The Pretty Girls and The Rest of Us Who Looked Like Sacks of Potatoes But With Late 80s Perms.

In fact, I've only received one genuine Valentine's Day card in my entire life, and even that led to a row when I chucked it out a few weeks later. (My thinking: it's a nice card, with some kisses in it. It is not a Jane Austenesque declaration of a long-held affection for me and a list of all my greatest attributes which I will treasure for ever, even when a spinster at the age of 41. His thinking: YOU THREW AWAY MY CARD. WAAAAAAH. Needless to say, that didn't last).

I am spending the morning in an office (when you spend all your working life in an office, it's hard to imagine you can miss being in one, but having actual people to natter to is fun, and someone just made me a coffee, which is also one of those little rituals that make one's day nicer). There are two young fellows in the office who have actually spent proper money on getting their lady friends flowers (one's spent £65 as he had to have them delivered to Manchester). They are in their early 20s. Valentine's is definitely for young people - once you're past 30, you have to be cynical about it, if you weren't before. Now I just find it an irritant that the minute you're done with New Year's Eve (another pressurised date when one's supposed to have fun/herald a year of excitement and romance), the shops are cluttered up with Valentine's Day cards, everything is red, pink or a cuddly teddy until February 15th and one is required to have an opinion about whether it's a good thing that there has to be a national day on which couples are obliged to be nice to each other.

On the other hand, this is how single I am:
1/ On the District Line, nothing gives me greater pleasure than securing one of those single seats. A seat! All to yourself! This could be the greatest possible indicator that I am destined to remain unpartnered for life.
2/ When my friend texted to ask if I was free to babysit my godchildren tonight, I didn't even have to check the diary. The main advantage of appointing a spinster as your children's godmother is that she is guaranteed to have absolutely no prior commitments on Valentine's Day.
3/ I actually bought the 'Valentine's Meal for Two' at Sainsbury's, in the full and frank knowledge that I would be eating the whole thing myself. Yes, that's a main meal, a side dish, pudding and a bottle of wine, all for a tenner. See, one can turn this 'being single in a recession' thing into an advantage! I've had a massive slap-up meal for two nights  running (and counting - the side was a potato gratin that was frankly excessive, so has gone into the freezer for another night) for a fiver a go. Let's face it, you couldn't even buy the wine for that, in general. I  felt as though I was committing a fairly major subterfuge at the checkout, though. I almost declared that I didn't have a 'significant other' in case I wasn't actually allowed to buy the stuff if I didn't have a partner. I've managed to stop short of buying the M&S version for £20 (with free box of chocolates), but only just.