My Funny Valentine

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I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I despise this holiday. Valentine’s is the suckiest of all the special occasions, without a doubt. It tricks you into thinking that the things that really don’t matter matter – the red foil covered chocolates, the roses and the dinners, and I’m mad at it for that.

But Cupid already knows my views so I’ll spare you another year of rambling on about it. This year I think it’s much more important to acknowledge the most valuable long-term relationship you will ever have – the one you have with your fine self.

We live a long time (for the most part), a whole life in the company of one person we simply can’t avoid – so it’s vital we try and get along. Easier said than done though, innit? When we’re battling our demons, juggling stress and social anxiety – comparing ourselves to others on Instagram. It’s exhausting adding self-love to the list of things we ‘should’ be doing – and sometimes even that rhetoric is flawed. Like, love yourself please but not too much.¬†

I say, do your best – do what makes you feel good and better. Whether that’s hanging with your Galentine’s, eating nice food – you get the drift. I think I’d be much more comfortable with St. Valentine’s birthday if it was about that instead.

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As for my evening, I’ve been out for coffee and a gossip with a new friend, eaten roast chicken and we’re now watching Valentine (2001) because I’m in the mood for pretty people being picked off one by one by a vengeful cupid. You?

Happy Valentine’s Day, whatever you’re up to.

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Smalentine’s Day

il_570xN.877963078_h5peI’m not a big fan of Valentine’s Day. I may have mentioned it before.

In fact, I’ve spent a fair amount of this week whinging about how much I hate the commercialism, the pressure and the girl in the street who can’t even carry the huge bunch of red roses her boyfriend got her.

Evidence yet again that I’ve let Valentine’s get to me and I don’t know why I let it. I mean firstly, isn’t a whole day dedicated to sweet loving my very life blood? I freaking love LOVE, man.

And I am still in love, after all these years. Yet neither of us are VD celebrators (again, the holiday not the STD) so when I drop hints about things I don’t need or even want (flowers/jewellery/a basket full of kittens in pink neckties), my S.O. rightly ignores me.

He knows I’m being irrational, manipulated by a fat flying baby and we don’t have the money for big gifts anyway. Even if we did, wouldn’t we both prefer food? I’m happy and content as I am, Saint Fucking Valenpants, so back the hell off.

That said, I had a mini-huff a few evenings ago over our complete lack of romantic plans this weekend – only to be met a moment later with a new email notification. Ticket confirmation for Deadpool on Sunday. For 2, premier seats.

Burgers for lunch, gelato afterwards.

Proof romance is not dead, not even sleeping. Proof that love¬†still has a pulse¬†and doesn’t need its own day in the sun¬†(but sometimes that can be nice, I guess). Valentine’s always does one thing I can’t deny: it serves to make me think about love in all its forms.

Big, flashy and completely O.T.T. versus Everyday loving.

Neither is the right way and they’re not mutually exclusive, obvs¬†– you can chose any kind whenever you like. But I like the kind¬†that sends the love of my life into town on a Saturday to pick up a package because he knows I hate crowds. When it’s raining.

The kind that delivers a cup of tea every now and again without asking. My favourite is the kind that orders Deadpool tickets and helps me sneak Burger King into the theatre too.

I’m going to stop being so down on the whole thing from now on because it’s not so bad. If I don’t like it, I can buy my own chocolates and jewellery.

Plus, Valentine’s spawned Woman Appreciation Day, AKA Galentine’s and that’s just the best. My princess Tatty bought me flowers and candy to cheer me up, and I sent cards to my local babes (and mum). Not going to lie that it feels good to spread love (and one day I might organise myself to go internationally).

Let’s face it, our girls are the important ones really.¬†They’re the ones who listen to us¬†moan 24/7, talk to us¬†about contouring and help us¬†sort ourselves¬†out when we’re¬†having yet another crisis of confidence.

Love is a broad thing, man. And this post is practically Belgian, so full of waffle it is.

What are your Valentine’s plans? Do you celebrate, do you hate it like I do or do you have your own cool tradition? ‚̧

Galentine’s Day

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I’d set out to write a damning post about Valentine’s Day today, poo pooing anything remotely heart shaped, made of chocolate or encased in red foil.¬†I’ve changed my mind about that, having read a few lovely blog posts sharing intimate and heart warming stories of love and commitment. It’s given me the adjustment that I needed, and yes I really am that fickle.

You see, I love romance and love. I live for it. Nothing makes me happier than people falling in love and expressing that love in whichever way they see fit (within reason, obvs). Give me a grand, romantic gesture any day of the week.

I’m¬†lucky to have a loved one of my own and to be part of a partnership that feels like it was meant to be.¬†It’s no exaggeration to say that I feel like all my wishes came true the day I met Mr Bass.

Yet despite this, Valentine’s day just doesn’t do it for me. I always end up deflated as the 14th draws to a close and I know it’s because I’ve bought into the hype. I’ve got carried away in a frenzy of heart shaped paraphernalia; allowed it to turn my head and make me expect things I don’t even want or need.

Who run the world?
Who run the world?

I’m lucky in love every day so one set date to show and receive love is just not necessary, in my eyes. If I was single I’m sure I’d still be hopeful but I’d feel the same; it’s a Hallmark holiday designed purely to get the cash registers kerching-ing (BAH HUMBUG).

Still, every year as I watch the girls in the office be bombarded with bouquets and shiny things, or get whipped off on boutique hotel breaks in the country, I start to wish for those things myself. When I don’t get the same, I feel let down. Which is rude, ungrateful and frankly pathetic,¬†especially when I’ve specifically said, “Don’t get me anything”.

But since I am going back and forth on this, I have to consider, is it really such a bad thing to encourage people to share their feelings ? I suppose not.

Anyway, in the spirit (and my original theme) of hating VD (the day, not the disease), I decided to stop myself being disappointed this year by spreading love, instead of expecting it.¬†Inspired by my heroine, Leslie Knope of Parks & Rec and her Galentine’s concept, I sent all my best (UK) girls some love, reminding them of why I love them. Which I do, very much and all in different ways.

(Non-UK babes, I’m afraid I didn’t organise myself in time, but this is a new tradition so expect mail in February 2016).

So, today officially it’s Galentine’s Day and I’m all about the ladies.

All my beautiful ladies: I heart you long time. From the bottom of my grumpy heart.

All images via Google.