Valentine’s Day sucks.
It sucked in 2006 when I was convinced that I would never have a relationship. It sucked in 2013 when I was in love but hated being told how to feel. It sucked today when I went in Cards Galore to buy a birthday card and emerged with red and pink scorched on my eyeballs.
The only time it didn’t suck was in 2009 when I was in my first ever relationship. We had heart-shaped donuts and met a man ‘walking’ his pet hawk on the Cheshire fields behind my first boyfriend’s house.
But look: most of the time, it sucks.
You know what else sucks? Tinder. It’s good for pretty much nothing. Apart from stories. It’s good for those. Here (in non-chronological order) are ten people I’ve dated since I downloaded the app last June. Happy fucking Valentine’s.
- A woman. A mental health warrior.The nicest and most courteous of all (obviously).
- A tattooist with ‘Misery’ tattooed above one eye and ‘Bad’ below the other. I mean, he had the works: tatted eyelids, tatted head, tatted palms…Bought me guitar picks. Wouldn’t stop fiddling with his septum piercing. We had Guinness at Waxy O’Connor’s and pizza at Pizza Pilgrims.
- A bearded engineer. Dad is a bigwig at Metroline. Went on a date to a motorbike shop. Shared my steak restaurant meal review with him. Still got ghosted.
- An architect. Still fucked up by his last relationship. He played Wish You Were Here on my guitar and I spilled water all over his clothes in the middle of the night. Later, he helped me pick out my electric guitar.
- A posh boy. A half-Italian, half-French asshole whose family own restaurants in Notting Hill. Met his dad on the first date. His dog is called Hollister and he has an app for private jet hire on his phone. Oh, and he paid for dinner with a £50 note.
- A drummer. The best kisser in the world. A total dickhead.
- A Cambridge graduate. Overcompensating for his dull job with a scaffolding piercing and a pair of dungarees. Doesn’t think Hollywood is a racist institution.
- A member of the Queen’s Colour Squadron. Gave me the cheek when I tried to kiss him. Voted for Brexit.
- A model-esque aesthete. Ordered Japanese whisky. Watched The Man Who Fell To Earth and listened to The Doors in his room at The Waldorf.
- Just your standard, pretty boring pub date, I’m afraid, no good stories here. Not even one. That’s how boring.