A long post on Valentine’s Day

15 Feb

Yesterday was the first Valentine’s Day in a long time I actually did something memorable.

After a long day at work I ate heart-shaped tartlets and drank my favourite cocktail, before being served up a fantastic meal that included heart-shaped mashed potato, finishing off with specially made chocolate and cherry brownies.

And I spent it with three wonderful girlfriends and at no point did any of us mention the fact that we were sans men, because it just really didn’t feel important.

But I can’t ignore boys completely over Valentine’s Day. I proved this before dinner when I emailed the girls a short ode to an ex (who shall remain nameless). And what a better way to remember those I have loved and lost or never even met, than to recap my love life so far? The York Notes, if you will, of my romances.

(Be warned, it’s a long, hard slog)


Oh C. You were lovely, if I was upset and cried, you did too. You wrote me lovely letters. We had lots of fun.
And then we broke up because I snogged someone else and then we had screaming rows at parties and you went out with someone prettier than me and I hated her for months. And then you, silly boy, cheated on her. And I phoned her up and told her how sorry I was that you two had broken up and we spoke for two hours.

This whole episode made me realise that not only did she had fantastic hair but was lovely, too. And that I am a bad drunk who really likes shouting.


F, you told me you liked me and I went out with C anyway and when you found out you went behind the shed at the party we were at and cried. You gave me Duran Duran and wonderful parties and the best summer ever. And when C dumped me I passed you a note while you were on stage telling you I still liked you but you were over me. Then a year or two later we were sitting in awkward silence when you stood up and pulled something crumpled out from where it had been hidden behind a shelf, and it was my note. You were wonderful and I’m sorry I hurt you even slightly.


We met when I was going through that phase of loving skinny boys with consumptive pallors. I liked you but knew you had a girlfriend. When you seemed to be flirting with me one night over text, I think my 17 th birthday party, I plucked up the courage to act like a grown up and told you how I felt. And you shot me down. At that point I was possibly the most embarrassed I had ever felt – I know now that that is really just low-level embarrassment – and I practically got cramp from cringing so hard. And then you made me feel better the week after and invited me over. We smoked in the garden and drank Bells and you told me how you were going to dump your girlfriend when she had finished her GCSEs (dude, you were like 20 – what’s wrong with you?) for me and I slept over and we just kissed a bit and I went home feeling all warm inside.

Then I thought about it, realised you were a bit weird and ignored you and went on to meet T1 and learnt the hard way that if you don’t return people’s calls they just call and call again until you get your friend Alex to pick up the phone and say you’re at the shops(?!) and they think it’s you putting on a voice and never call again.


You were my first love. When I saw you in that bar I fancied the pants off you and kept trying to flirt with you but all you did was scowl at me so I gave up. I’m so glad you jumped out of that cab and came back and got my number. And I’m sorry I didn’t actually know your name for our first three dates and had you in my phone as Dave Or Mike Or Something.
We had two great years that were only marred by your jealousy. In the end all the wall-punching, wine glass-throwing and name-calling was just too tiring. So I broke up with you.
And then missed you for two years. And went a bit loopy and phoned you a billion times only for us to fight every time we spoke.

And then we tried again, and broke up again. And then we tried again. Then I met B and realised that while I’ll always treasure you I knew I couldn’t be with you again. Then we tried once more and brok… You get the gist.


Please stop sending me Facebook messages every six to twelve months. After our one date I told you I didn’t want to see you again. While your text of “I want you, and I think you want me. So let’s give it a go. Even if it’s just the once.” was very romantic and all, seriously I am never going to reply.


You were the first person I went on a date with after T1 and I liked you but should have known that always being a bit nervous when we were together probably didn’t mean that this would work.
I enjoyed rescuing you from a freezing cold night spent in a Travelodge lobby trying to stop strangers from looking up your kilt, and reading about it in your column. You are an excellent plus one for weddings for letting me tell that story, even if people do then think you’re proposing to me on the dance floor after a few drinks.


G you were lovely and I was really sorry for dumping you for J by saying I was busy and then subsequently ignoring your calls.

Until I bumped into you during the World Cup and you were wearing pristine beige desert boots, pre-ripped jeans and a Michael Douglas-esque V-neck jumper with nothing underneath. This made me realise I had made the right decision.


We were set up on a blind date neither of us wanted to go on but after an hour were inseparable. I loved being wined and dined in expensive restaurants and the manly way you have of nonchalantly tossing your credit card on the table with two fingers. You loved cats and staying in drinking wine, explaining Formula One to me and cooking me amazing meals. All of that made me overlook the nine am beers, the anti-baldness lotion that I wasn’t allowed to go near in case it made my ovaries go wonky and the fact you were always a bit too blunt. And I still can’t believe that you dumped me.


Ah you were perfect! Tall and terribly handsome, well read, clever and funny. It was never going to work, was it?

You remembered I had said I’d love to go to Russia and for my 21st birthday got me a Lonely Planet travel guide. I realise now that was less a present and more of a hint. I didn’t really hear from you again.


Never go out with someone who has just broken up with their fiancée. Unfortunately I have a terrible short term memory.


You never called me. I still have your socks.


You heard me and Alex discussing the four Ts and started laughing. This got us talking and resulted in the biggest whirlwind relationship ever. I fell deeply and madly in love with you and you thought you felt the same. Until you realised that actually that was how you felt about the fiancée you had just broken up with.


You had to cancel because you had ‘a THING’. I assumed this was code, which is why I didn’t try to rearrange.


You accidentally sent me an email, which got us chatting. I was going out that night and you told me to have a drink on you, so I posted an invoice for a cocktail to your office. Last week you finally mentioned it and asked how you could settle it. I’m sorry that I just ignored you and didn’t suggest you buying me a drink but you used text speak. NEXT!


Hot man on the train this evening, I’m sorry I didn’t ask you out when I had the chance.

And to think, I have years more of this left to go…



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