I couldn’t let Valentine’s day passby without a piece on seeing the day through whilst being on the shelf. Comfortably located well-out of reach on the top shelf. As my four year old reminded me this week ‘Mummy, I’m your man’.
In the same way that hen-dos frequently smack of ‘forced-fun’ (I wish I had shares in referee whistles…), Valentine’s day has an air of forced-romance. There’s pressure to ensure that you look VERY happy together to the outside world, not least to restaurant staff and neighbouring diners, perhaps with an air of ‘competitive romancing’ between couples.
I’m genuinely looking forward to working Valentine’s day and hope it proves a warm and fluffy day of loveliness. But will the pressure of the day result in the same outcome as New Year’s Eve – where people have such high expectations for a night which repeatedly ends in chairs being thrown, people snogging someone outside of their relationship and family-feuds that see blood-splatters reaching the ceiling of hosting venues?
I fear my sadness of the Tuesday morning sweeping session; seeing a series of strewn rose heads and the odd wedding ring getting scooped into my dustpan. With the regular backing track of Mariah, 10cc and Roxette, I am not confident that I won’t end up crying in a ball of tears under table three; clutching onto a disguarded wedding ring.
As a big believer in the law of attraction, I feel responsibility to turn my viewpoint to one of optimism and joy – if I visualise a sea of effortlessly blissful couples and proposals over plates of little Pazzerotti parcels, then this will come true.
And when it comes to my own set-up, I may be a wine-shelf-stacker, I may be happily on the shelf, but I must remain open-minded to any worthy gent who offers to stack my shelf.
Happy Valentine’s Day.