When I had a woman, she used to tell me she hated the commercialism of Valentine's and that it was bullshit, and we shouldn't need a day to prove to each other how much we loved each other. I saw through this ruse, obviously, and made a big deal of it. Stalling leaving the house until the dozen roses came (six red, six white), lunch and a bottle of wine, movie, three courses and another bottle of wine, early to bed with making sure she came first, most and last. Subsequent years she told me "last year was nice, but seriously don't bother doing anything this year, I know how you thought it was important but it isn't." I obviously ignored this and used a variety of cunning romantic schemes... lying that I couldn't get out of work when in fact I had, getting up early to make her pancakes and a cooked breakfast (good for bloated "probably shouldn't but glad we did" sex), getting chocolates and flowers sent to her work when she couldn't get out of work, taxi to posh restaurant followed by hotel when I told her we'd get takeaway... yeah.
Nowadays I'm an embittered singleton and I hate it, but thankfully this year my mate is having his medieval-themed wedding, so I get to spend all day in my wine-coloured velvet wizard's robe and waving my homemade staff fashioned from a five-foot tree branch and a translucent and gold-glitter Christmas tree bauble. Best of all, seven-course banquet :
Veg Broth and herb bread
Roast suckling of pork loin
Braised shank of local lamb
Roast poussin with buttered worts (veg)
Roman meatloafe served with broth
Tart of apple and ginger
Local cheeses and grapes
..... all of which sounds fucking lovely. Even though bride and groom don't drink, we had to indicate on our RSVP whether we would take alcohol or not and I'm assured the guests will be encouraged to get merry, so I expect I'll be lead astray and end up smashed.
I expect I shall probably go whoring on Sunday.
