I decided to say Happy Valentine's Day to every man in my phone

For my fellow attention-seeking single lover ladies. Things can only get better x

Valentine’s Day. The worst day of the year to be a single lover girl. That godforsaken Venus in Cancer. As soon as I opened my dreary eyes and reached around for my phone for my morning Instagram scroll, I was bombarded by posts of couples declaring their undying love for each other. My 5^th year without a valentine, I had forgotten the magnitude of mania which overtakes the coupledom every time we reach this mid-point in February. Performative declarations of adoration takeover the algorithm, alongside men with women entire galaxies out of their league.

WE GET IT YOU’RE IN LOVE!!!!

As my fifth valentine’s day alone begun, there was only one thing for my fizzing resentment – bubbles, and lots of them.

I had had approximately two sips of Kylie prosexy when I decided it would be a good idea to text every man I’ve had a romantic interaction with over the past year or so ‘Happy V day x’. A simple “remember me’ it’s the day of love (love me).

In all fairness, I didn’t embark on this contact list adventure for affection, rather a bit of attention, and a giggle with my best friend (and number one enabler). I wanted to investigate how the male species would react to an out-of-the blue “happy day of love”. I didn’t have a thought-out method in this madness, the alcohol just stirred my creativity and memories of lost bar meet-cutes, one night encounters and strings of dates that ultimately didn’t go anywhere. Basically, any member of the opposite sex I’d had a micro or macro romantic endeavour were fair game. I did not target men I’d had semi-serious situationships with, or who had ruined my life, because that would not have been in the live-laugh-love spirit of GALENTINES. I was not about to dredge up buried trauma when I was fuelled by princess petrol stomping to Shoreditch in pink heels to the soundtrack of Fight for this Love - Cheryl.

We arrived at the cocktail bar which was probably the epitome of cool when millennials were hitting the club in 7 inch heels and business casual attire. No hate, I am non-judgmental when it comes to the city’s watering holes, I spend most of my time in dives where you stick to the floors and are eyed-up by men in their 50s called Tony. As soon as the drinks doth poureth, so did the responses. First up was a bouncer who picked me up off of the floor when I fell off the stage backwards in a Dalston pub because I got overly excited when mr DJ played New Order last weekend. “Happy V Day babe ❤️❤️” – a supportive king. Picking me up both physically and emotionally. A date from before Christmas who pushed me home in a trolley sent me a meme “you can’t spell stupid without u and I”. The virtual equivalent of getting a garish card from the card factory, but appreciated the thought, even if it did highlight the 10-year age difference.

A man saved in my phone as Talk to Frank (I can’t even explain this one), returned the sentiment “Happy V day x”. 0 points for creativity. A yankie doodle I met in Tokyo: “Hey hey! Happy Valentines lil lady”- absolute favourite, no notes. Really enabled my raging little woman syndrome. A random I met in Tesco whilst buying a Bombay badboy pot noodle after pride 2023 said: “You’re alive, happy v day x”. Bad on my part for going ghost but he did lie to say he was older than he was and moved to Kent. I don’t know if this decision was cemented after I forced him to watch me sing karaoke twice whilst he was sober. American number 2, Mr Los Angeles, who my Tarot reading said I would marry but moved back across the pond without saying anything, has clearly been working on his communication. “Happy Valentine’s Day Lydiaaa❤️’, the elongation of my name made me feel like he was serenading me. Two responses from the f*** boy contingent naturally arrived late - a mulleted Aussie (so original) reacted simply with a shocked emoji. I can’t really feel any way about that, we haven’t spoken since summer when I had a severe case of Euros fever.

A short king from my Bristol days came in with a spew-worthy response, “Happy late v day puppy/Lovely to hear from you xxx’ PUPPY is the most sickening term of endearment I have ever heard. It’s giving I walk around in latex and pretend to be a dog. Obviously I replied, and have since been left on read.

All in all, I would say I had a pretty solid success rate. Only two victims did not respond. A barman up in Manchester and an old Bristol fling who is actually a friend(ish) so the silence hit deep. Can only assume he has a level-headed girlfriend he was spoiling with affection. But given the high response rate, I think we can confirm they enjoyed an unhinged ‘lil lady’ from their past barging her way into their DMs in the search of some romance.

However, the innocent cyber game took a twisted turn and manifested into real life. “Italian the sun”, who I vowed to never see again after he left mine and a) said ciao without bella b) ghosted for a week until a booty call text. But alas, he was part of the GAME. “What a shitty day 🙂”, he responded. I said” “The day of love why?”. “Festivity BS. The capitalization of love. Are you out?”. As Shakespeare wrote:

For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

And our Marxist king was clearly full of despair. And my friend who was simultaneously playing this game just so happened to get a response from his best friend and they were all together in the pub we first met in (fate???)

This time he said ciao with bella, but I doubt we are star-crossed lovers – just lovers of the same boozer.

Here’s to another year of hoping for an obnoxiously large bouquet of roses.