Oh Valentine’s’ Day, you media-backed, loneliness-shaming, tacky-red-and-pink-decoration-sequined corporate joke of a holiday—why must I always be vexed by you?
Why have I never spent one of you with someone nice? Was it too much to ask for a pleasant Valentine’s’ Day with that girl who tried to stab me with a fork? Or the fateful Feb. 14 I spent delivering Chinese food? At the very least, with the one ex-we-don’t-talk-about who vomited down the sidewalk of Westheimer?
This year, to celebrate my newly-won single status, I’ve set out on a mission to spend Valentine’s Day as depressingly single and sad as possible. I even constructed this guide so that you can too:
Invest in Tinder Plus
One recent drunken night I invested in Tinder Plus, and for this occasion I suggest you do the same. The benefits: Unlimited swiping, five super-likes and one “Tinder Boost” per month. Now, before we go any further, update your bio with a quote about having a guarded heart and upload your favorite photo of you and your ex, but with them poorly cropped out—bonus points if a phantom arm still lingers around your waist in the final product. Now save that “boost,” you’ll be needing it later.
Mail your mother a Valentine’s Day card.
She’ll probably just check it for cash and chuck it, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Who else are you going to send a valentine to?
Buy yourself a decadent box of chocolates and the cheapest boxed wine you can find on Amazon.
If you’re already single, you might be thinking to yourself, “Maybe I’ll meet my manic pixie dream girl in the checkout line of the supermarket.” You’re not going to, so just sit back and let Amazon do the heavy lifting. Find yourself the cheapest boxed-wine you can and a decadent box of chocolates. The kind you might buy for a significant other, if you had one.
Make yourself a fancy looking TV dinner.
Cooking a nice meal for yourself says something about how put together your life is. Yours is not—the visibly poor attempt at having your act together is what we’re going for here, and nothing metaphorically represents that more than the soggy disappointment of a fancy TV dinner.
Adopt a cat.
If you continue your depression spiral you might actually be coming back to this step—please consider adoption if you do.
Find an appropriate playlist.
Begin drinking while scrolling through romantic Twitter hashtags
Envy is such a fickle emotion so drown your loneliness with contempt for those who have what you pretend you don’t want. Might I suggest searching “#SOULMATE?”
Continue drinking while watching “Me Before You” in a dark room.
Notice just how in love the people on the screen are? Remember that you will never have that. Drink directly from the wine box.
HIT THAT TINDER “BOOST.”
You only get one of these a month, good thing it’s a special occasion! You’ve got 30 minutes to swipe to your heart’s delight knowing that at any moment dozens of people are looking at you, considering their options, and swiping left—maybe you’ll match with someone equally desperate.
Call your ex, but not “that” ex and talk to them about “that” ex.
Everyone has that one that got away, the big-ex that irreparably broke your heart and the hole in your life that you drunkenly call up one lonely holiday crying about how you still love them. At this point it’s a tacky cliche—but, speaking from experience, there is something far more pathetic: Calling one of your less significant exes to regale them with tales of misery regarding your passion for the one who got away. Bonus points if you ask them out on a date at the end of the call.