Praise the lord, Hallmark Day is here once again. And, as is the usual custom on these occasions, I am single. Again.
Whoo. I have to say that, up until this morning, I was managing to affect supreme indifference to the whole shebang. However, my hormones now have different ideas, so I've just had a mini-sob in the loo. (How terribly Bridget Jones-esque of me.)
It's better now than last year, when I was stuck in a freezing cold house in Wakefield, with a man who dumped me unceremoniously 2 months later, claiming, upon later questioning, that he'd had doubts since Valentine's Day about our suitability.
I know that, at the moment, I'm probably more susceptible to this kind of thing as I've got other things going on in my mind, that affect every part of life, but surely it's not too much to ask to meet a man who's not a lying, two-faced, scum-sucking weasel? Bitter? Me? Whatever gives you that impression?
I'm not even that bothered about not getting a card or anything, as I've never really had any. Well, apart from the one I got one year from my parents. Bless them.
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