Valentine’s Day is round the corner, and we all recognize what which means: an entire load of people buying anti-fungal cream after trying edible underclothes and finishing up with yeast contamination. Nice one!
Of direction, this winter occasion is also a celebration of “love” and “romance,” and so most importantly it is in which cuffing season reaches its natural climax earlier than the descent into, “wow, I recognize what their farts odor like. Time to wrap this up.” If you’re in an extended-time period courting, you obviously gained’t be celebrating due to the fact you “don’t want a stupid excursion to expose how a lot you love your companion,” and also, you probably spent way an excessive amount of on each other at Christmas and clearly might much like a massive fuck-off pizza, no domestic dog thanks, only a few peace, and quiet would be adorable, perhaps some Planet Earth?
If you’re no longer going constant, however, and you’ve got additionally did not attach your self, mollusk-like, to someone whose genitals you may at the least tolerate over the path of cuffing season, then it’s fucking crunch time. Obviously, you can choose to publicly boycott Valentine’s Day, by doing a Facebook reputation approximately how it is “just for the card industry” and the “joke’s on all of us else” due to the fact you’re “celebrating on my own with a fowl bucket” and “working on yourself”. Or you could make sincere ‘Galentine’s Day’ plans on the thirteenth, complete with separate organization chat wherein Tiffany demands anybody bring a gift for the gal friend they’re sat subsequent to on the squad brunch (clearly not something I even have ever achieved, ever.)
As tempting and really not miserable as these alternatives sound, however, it’s clear the best pass for the non-cuffed at the moment is to go hell for leather-based. The SAS mantra, ‘Who Dares Wins’ can rarely be implemented to courting, due to the fact there’s literally a lot to lose by means of asking a person out. But due to the fact I’m a masochist and interest hoe, the closing week I determined I would make it my project to discover a last-ditch cuff, and without a doubt, *without a doubt* placed myself obtainable.
You see, Tinder, Hinge and Bumble all pass veeeery dry among November and March, presumably as it’s bloodless and nobody may be arsed to move for beverages with strangers who may spend the entire date talking approximately they’re begin up. So with relationship apps dominated out, I decided to head all-in on a radical new technique to courting: guerilla advertising and marketing.
I’m now not speak approximately going out-and seeing if something takes place, as I’m: a) too broke to do this and; b) shagged one of the kitchen staff in my preferred bar, and may glaringly now by no means display my face there again. I’m talking approximately going into the real international, after paintings, handing out flyers:
I started out my adventure by using going to the maximum cliche romantic destination I could consider: the bookshop. In movies, humans constantly locate their true love in ebook shops, making eyes over Wuthering Heights and intending to slag off all the bestsellers. I taped a flier to my t-shirt (in case any suitors wanted an excuse to strike up communique), and picked up a duplicate of Crime and Punishment. That honestly made my appearance very smart and thrilling.
But you recognize me, I simply couldn’t withstand a cheeky little bit of Bridget Jones! I am unmarried in spite of everything!
Then, I heard a shudder as the blinds were drawn at the bookstore. It becomes closing time, and I hadn’t bumped into any type of men who would be willing to guide me on a way to study Nietzsche. Sad!
Exiting the book shop in Old Street Station, I observed a person in Uber Eats gear handing out loose coupons. He certainly had the whole guerilla marketing strategy tapped because everybody changed into taking his vouchers. I asked if it would be cool for me to stand to flyer next to him and study from the satisfactory. He nodded, and as he offered “£10 off Uber Eats”, I stood there announcing, “Do you need to be my boyfriend?”
Okay, so humans at the give up of a protracted busy day were greater interested in getting a reasonably-priced curry than occurring a date with me. I understood. But I changed into (am) horny, and in want of someone to cut up an M&S chocolate lava cake with on Valentine’s, so I modified tack, and hot-footed it to a file save, in which meet-cutes always happen in films. The record store is defo a romantic location to satisfy the character of your desires. For complete “unmarried indie woman communicate to me” vibes, I made positive to browse bands that cool boys like; as an instance, The Smiths.
Unfortunately, there has been a display occurring at equal time. Obviously, we all understand cool boys like gigs, however interrupting a live performance to put it up for sale your self is not very hip, and I couldn’t stick around for the give up as I had constrained time to try this write-up.
Slinking off out of doors, I struck up a conversation with a chap having a ciggie. “Would you want to be my boyfriend? It might best be for one night,” I stated. “Ha, I’ve got a girlfriend,” he answered. “But I’ll stand in a photograph if you want?”
I mean truly, the things people do for interest.
I grew to become lower back to the quiet Wednesday avenue to look tumbleweed (empty takeaway boxes and fowl bones), billowing in the wind. No one changed into out, and nobody could take my silly, silly flyers. I resigned myself, and started out drafting my anti-V Day FB popularity in my head.
But what is this? Just some seconds later, a group of lads walked beyond the entrance to the store. “HEY!” I chirped into the crisp iciness air. “Would certainly one of you lads like up to now me for Valentine’s?”
“Yeah, our pal will do it. Go on Marco, do it!!!”
A sheepish man, who answered to Marco, advanced.
“Marco, could you like a flyer approximately relationship me?” I asked.
“Um, satisfactory,” he replied enthusiastically.
“Great! Let’s take a picture!”
As we pulled away, Marco truly roasting well within the flames of embarrassment, I contemplated what to do next.
“So, er, yeah, hit me up on Instagram if you want that date, I bet,” I said.
“Ha, yeah,” he spoke back. So candy!
Anyway, it’s been 24 hours and pointless to mention, Marco has no longer messaged me on Instagram. No M&S lava cake for Helen. My quest for a Valentine’s Day cuff keeps one flyer at a time.