Five reasons to boycott Valentine's Day, by a single man

CRASS commercialism isn’t romance. True love is respecting a man sticking by his principles. That’s why I, Julian Cook aged 28, will be alone tomorrow night: 

Unfair charging policies

You do know that restaurants and florists jack up their prices on February 14th, don’t you? Fifteen quid for a bunch of red roses? No chance. I’m all for being spontanously romantic on birthdays and anniversaries that end in a zero. A meal on Valentine’s Day cost less than a long weekend in Hull if you take your own food and booze.

Hallmark Holiday

It’s nothing but a cynical ploy by the world of commerce to boost moribund February spending, so it’s to my credit that I’m unswayed by the need to make a dramatic statement of intent to a partner in a retail lull between Christmas and Easter. Our love is better than that.

Every day should be Valentine’s Day

As a caring, sensitive guy, I rightly feel that expressing your love shouldn’t be restricted to a specific day. It should be always there, living and breathing, in tune with the woman’s emotions. I tell women that and they’re always impressed, though subsequently the Tinder chat tends to die down.

It demeans true love

Love isn’t an appointment. It isn’t a day on a calendar. To celebrate by rote alongside all the other couples would be to stab a gilded stake through its heart. If society deems that necessary? Then society is wrong, and I’d rather be at home watching Bridget Jones’s Diary as though I stumbled on it and can’t be bothered to change channel.

It should be anonymous

The true spirit of Valentine’s Day is a card arriving from an admirer, signed with no more than a question mark. Who has been watching me from afar? Could this be the great romance of my life? But with modern postal strikes, dating apps and anti-stalking laws, it could never happen. It’s never happened to me.

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Straight white man working in shitty dead-end job keenly aware of his privilege

A CISHET white British man who works on a chicken farm is, like Harry Styles, fully aware of the winning hand life has dealt him.

Bill McKay of Lincolnshire, who deals with feeding and shovelling shit, is humbly going about his low-paid, low-status job acutely conscious of the immense and bountiful privileges the patriarchy has gifted him.

He said: “Sometimes the squawking gets you down, but then I remember I’m a Caucasian male sexually attracted to women. I’ve won life’s golden ticket.

“I can’t be concerned about minimum wage when there’s a gender pay gap. When one of the birds that’s still got a beak goes for my eyes, it kind of feels like karma.

“It makes my browbeaten, penniless existence easier, knowing it will smash the glass ceiling in chicken farming. If I’m here, that means more room higher-up for women and that’s got to be a good thing.

“At the minute they barely hang around for a few months before moving onto something that pays more. We need to do better.”

Friend Donna Sherridan said: “As a straight white guy, Bill’s playing life with the cheat codes on. God help him if he weren’t.”