My radio asked me a question yesterday.
“ARE YOU SINGLE THIS VALENTINE’S DAY?”, my stupidly nosy radio asked me.
“That’s none of your bucking fizzness, radio.” I told my car dashboard.
Radio then went on to encourage me to show some ‘self-love’ by booking myself into a day spa. Later on, a poster at a train station told me to treat myself to chocolates, even though I don’t have a partner. And once I noticed the pattern, I started seeing advertisements and articles everywhere aimed at single people on Valentine’s Day, as not to exclude us poor partnerless plebs.
To all those companies profiting from V-Day, feel free to leave singles out of it. We don’t need to practice self-love.
WE ARE F*CKING MASTERS OF SELF-LOVE.
You don’t need to encourage me to put myself first. I’m single. All I do is self-love (get it? Get it? Sly winky smirk face here).
I give into every whim and desire that my heart pumps out, be it food-related (it almost always is), or spending four hours on the couch watching Grey’s Anatomy in a bath towel while painting my nails and eating peanut butter straight out of the jar (or as I call it, ‘Wednesday’).
If anything, my self-love should be DISCOURAGED. You should remind me to think of someone else for a day. But I won’t listen, because I largely do what I want.