Valentine's day should be renamed to 'Pity on single people day'. For a week now, literally every time I log into my Facebook (other social media platforms are slightly evolved/I don't have 787 friends everywhere) there's a bunch of fools celebrating some occasion. A large chunk of them have been unfollowed because I will not see this illusion of happiness on the internet. Not on my bandwidth, bitch.

There's everyone except for those happy motherfuckers, really trying to make this better for those of us who have no one/intention of celebrating this day. Kinda like being Amish on Christmas, and also Kim Jong Un.

Anyhow, I survived last month soon after recovering from the pox. My resilience of lasting until the end of the corporate project is really commendable, I feel. However, the spirits were dampened around Valentine's. "All of fucking market is decorated with balloons and flowers and hearts and gore.", I told Madeline as we shared notes on the in your face saccharine of the Hallmark event. Sure, grapes are sour and we miss wine but there's something with the people this year. More than ever, coming in your face and asking about the plans. Probably they're comfortable bringing up NSFW conversation with a mouth of full of braces or they have really taken on me as one of them fellow adults. Whatever may be the case. Madeline, too, was upset (visibly, about the demonstration) of the festival. Apparently, they celebrate this at her office.

I really hope they top it with "Happy Slap Day", the day after.

Valentine's in the past was pretty chill. I remember one year I was at this amazing gig, and everyone was sloshed and people were dancing. The year after I was at another gig, after a shoot. My friend and I had recently gotten our hearts smashed by the respective guys we were dating that time and we were sulking to the point that we went out, after a shoot. We were in a large-ish group, which had wound up at the staircase of the pub, at some point in the evening to smoke up. I will never understand why we did what we did. But we did end up smoking a doob there, and during the course of the second, we were caught. We, being a bunch of single women who were abandoned by our friend who had brought the stuff and left his girlfriend behind with us. It was a lot of fun, although, I can't remember why we ever forgave that friend of ours. I actually collected his degree on his behalf last year so I must be really forgiving.

I don't remember any significant detail for Valentine's besides this, except the arrival of the current one. There was a tinge of unhappiness wrt every fucking individual asking me what my plan is. I mean, for someone who's not been on a date for a month, that's a harsh question. But then again, the freelancers I work with call me and ask me about their payment status for projects I am not responsible for commissioning. It's easy answering, "I don't have a plan", as opposed to saying, "I am sorry I couldn't answer your phone cause it's a Sunday and I was busy getting the hair in my armpit removed. I hadn't done so in the last four months and I really had no inclination, besides the time to speak to you."

Day before yesterday, at the end of the lunch, my personal favourite super-chill unnameable colleague looked at me, with a straight face and said,

"Listen, call someone up after work and ask them to see you. Go out and have dinner. Call a friend."

The words looped in my head pretty much all day yesterday and today. I knew she'd said a point with conviction. It's not a big deal asking a friend out for dinner. Not when you earn and you eat out. Naturally then, two days before Valentine's, I announced cleanse. What better time than now? If you are on a cleanse, you don't need to eat out. Here, rationalising the voice in my head. How about that?

So when I woke up today and saw my mother had made my favourite breakfast out of nowhere, a part of me felt elated and the other part cribbed. "Sabudana vada on cleanse day 2- does my mother really think I'm so single that she needs to make me my favourite breakfast to feel loved? Jump to conclusion mode activated." I wrapped the plate clean and said no, reluctantly after my fourth vada. I was halfway through The Force Awakens, and I wanted to do nothing except watch Star Wars on loop.

The ho that I am, I was in my fluorescent pink Harajuku inspired opaque tights and a tiny dress because why the fuck not. Happy Valentine's Day to me. The dichotomy of should I, should I not was visible in my outfit. I would, if I could. Grapes are sour, I have to ingest sugar on the side.

While leaving work today another colleague told me,

"...have a good time! Go out, do something. You're dressed!"

"I'll go home and change into pyjamas, and watch Star Wars. Happy Valentine's Day to me!"

She laughed, as I walked out after making myself clear on my priorities for the day.

So when, three hours after this conversation I was on the phone pacifying our frequently mentioned on this blog friend, man friday, on why he should not jump from the second floor of our building, I found it all too amusing. The build-up to this day resulted in pacifying a 26 year old man-child, and asking him to come over, and not fret over a Blackforest Cornetto.

It was a dinner with a friend after all. A few burgers, a homemade pizza, cheese sausages and cheese dip. Followed by a Red Velvet and a Blackforest Cornetto respectively. Two glasses of cold pressed juice followed.

My sibling who kept reveling in the fact that she got four chocolates from four different guys at work looked at me as she said, "You got nothing today. Shame on you."

Well, I got some perspective. I am never going to be successful in a cleanse. And, just when you think you're all by yourself, you'll have a sign from the universe. Pick up the phone, make a call and ask your friend to have your back when you need it.