Single Valentine’s

So here I am, sitting at my kitchen table, pondering over the up and coming Tequila.

However, this is not any Tequila, this is the Valentines Day Tequila – for me, a highlight of my Leeds career. A night of debauchery. A night for the horny Lotharios to swoop in on the scantily dressed damsels. Perhaps this time I might climb that bar and fill my empty mouth with the sweet, sweet taste of the finest whipped cream in Britain. Not only does this satisfy my sweet tooth, it also creates that opportunity for the male bristle to graze my smooth, flawless chin or perhaps if one is luckier, the bristles might extend to the vaginal region.

From old experience, the dark dungeon of the dance floor is where we, as animals, all gather. Saliva drools from our mouths, us bitches waggle our bottoms, longing to be sniffed by the fellow dogs. It is a hunting ground. Every dog for themselves. The rare breed poodle waggles her pom-pom past the line of mongrels. The lapping of the jaeger bombs is never-ending and the night turns into chaos, wherever one looks, there is sniffing, licking and humping (of the dry sort).

Then on occasion I turn and see them. There they are, smug. It’s the paw holding and the disapproving looks. There are not many of them. Most of these creatures would not dare on such a day come to a place such as Tequila. A day for them better than Christmas, a day of romantic religion, cards have been sent, poems have been written, and love confessed. Yes, it’s the couples.

Should you not be at dining at LS6? Or for you more generous lovers, out at Jamie Oliver’s, which is probably full of you, like sheep baaring in union to the sound of love. Perhaps later you will follow the trails of fake roses purchased from pound land, to the luxury of a Hyde Park bed.

As a woman at the respectable age of 20, I have not yet experienced Valentine’s Day as a pair, and perhaps this is why I know how fun it is to be single. I know no different, and to be honest I do not particularly wish to be enlightened. As my mother said to my father, “We will not be celebrating Valentine’s day”, to which Dad, replies, “Why not Caroline?” To which my delightful mother snarls, “Complete waste of money. And flowers die, so wants the point.”

What a woman my mother is. A true Feminist. She reinforces my need to be single — not that I have a choice in the matter.

As a fresh single woman, taking the new single life with stride, I have a last message for all you Tequila attending boys and girls:

Midnight, DF, shot in hand, let’s join in singleton union and show those couples how Valentine’s Day is really done.

See you there.