It’s that time of year again: Valentine’s Day, traditionally associated with sickening displays of affection, widespread rejection and, of course, public humiliation. Valentine’s, Schmalentine’s, we say.

By Rachelle Ansell

If the marketing moguls are to be believed, Valentine’s Day is the one time of year when you can tell your flopsy-wopsy that you love them dearly and be showered with roses in return. But for every happy couple or hopeful romantic hovering by the letterbox, there are at least a hundred reaching for the sick bag. Thankfully for the bitter, twisted and single amongst us, there are a lot of good stories that turn up about Valentine’s Day to warm the cockles of even the most lovelorn unrequited lover.

Since time immemorial, there have been crappy Valentine’s Days. After all, even the day’s namesake didn’t exactly have a wonderful time. St Valentine was a priest who married lovers in secret against the Roman law laid down by the Emperor Claudius in 270 AD that all soldiers should be unmarried. He was eventually stoned and killed, although obviously this wasn’t on February 14th. One of the worst things to happen was the St Valentine’s Day Massacre of 1929 when seven members of a rival gang were murdered by Al Capone’s henchmen in Chicago.

Luckily now it seems the curse of Valentine’s Day extends only as far as making single people’s lives a big, miserable, paranoid mess.

It is important to remember that there is only one thing more tragic than not receiving a card. And that is getting one from your mum, trying to make you think that you have a secret admirer. My poor mother was probably tortured by me at fourteen prancing around next to the front door and thought that a card would help. Mums of the world: you’re very sweet, but we can recognise your disguised handwriting anywhere.

Even in the world of the attractive, things can go seriously wrong. There are probably times when even the most commitment-shy are fed up of the chase and secretly wish for s schnuggle bunny to call their own. Sal Raj-Lawrence, 18 year old architecture student, was asked out by six boys one year. Her explanation? “I was class rep. Everybody knew who I was! Anyway I eventually decided to go out with one bloke and he stood me up. I was so disappointed!” At least she didn’t feel foolish. Another friend went out with the fittest boy in our class, drank far too much and was promptly sick on his shoes. Needless to say they never saw each other ever again.

One of the other problems with Valentine’s Day (apart from the cheesy cards, the tack, the chocolates, the bad sixth form poetry and the gifts of ill-fitting underwear in garish colours) is that all the desperate people clamber out of the woodwork. After a drink or three they believe that they’re Casanova. Archaeology student Marianne adds her tuppence: “I was sat in a pub back home in Norway and this drunk came up to me and said: “Do you want to be my female elk?”
No further comment needed on that one. But whilst we are in the realm of dubious chat-up lines, the following conversation is always an interesting one:

Boy: “Are you coming home with me? Girl: “No”
Boy: “Are you coming home with me? Girl: “No”
Boy: “Okay, do you want a drink?” Girl: “Erm, okay, if you promise to shut up and Leave me alone”
Boy: “Here, now are you coming home With me?” Girl: “AAAARRRGH!”

Singles, be grateful for small mercies. After all, at least when you’re sleeping alone, Valentine Day can be cheap. Not so for the couples. For some, the pressure of the reverse psychology of that little phrase “you don’t have to buy me anything honestly” can be too much to bear. English Literature student Jane Smith was dumped by her boyfriend on the 13th February only for him to ask her out again on the 15th, all so that he didn’t have to buy her any presents.

Even if the spirit of romance hasn’t been hijacked by the marketing men it can still be subject to Bad luck. Whilst I wheedling out anecdotes from friends and neighbours, philosophy student Matt Donoaghue mentioned that when he was delivering a Valentine’s card to his girlfriend he managed to run over the family cat. Passion killing has never been so literal.

A great anecdote, yet still beaten in the cringe stakes by the hapless story of a schoolmate who spent four hours in the A&E of the local hospital, locked in a permanent embrace with her new boyfriend. What they didn’t know was that braces can interlock. It seems braces aren’t just there for straightening your teeth. They may also have a secret use as an advanced contraceptive device to prevent teenage pregnancies.

As information technology takes over good old fashioned letter writing, more people are likely to send emails than send cards. However, using email can be risky. Nobody wants their DoS to be privy to an email calling Floo Foo and the lecturer with the sprouting nasal hair isn’t going to be keen on being called Fluffy. A story that should act as a warning is the infamous email sent by Claire Swire to Brad Chait congratulating him on, er, his sexual prowess. Mr Chait forwarded the email to his friends, who forwarded it on to their friends, and it ended up going around the world and keeping the press occupied for an entire week.

May February 14th be at worst unmemorable and at best bliss. And remember that if you do have a pet name for your loved one, it will come out and they will be made fun of.

Rainbow Ducks, London