Ah, Valentine’s Day. The one day of the year where I’ve never truly felt like it’s for me. I’m that kind of person that never has a Valentine. Hell, I remember the one year I actually had a boyfriend for Valentine’s and from memory we did nothing, and he showed up at my door very late with a bouquet of flowers from Coles. Since then, I’ve used it as a day for me, by me. The one day where I try and do as much of the weird-ass stuff that makes me happy, terrible boyfriends be damned. So here is my very specific solo date for you all to be inspired by – and hopefully not think any less of me.
The Night Before:
If I’m lucky enough to have this fall on a weekend, I’ll turn my alarm off the night before. The utter BLISS of waking up on your own time is a gift in itself. But God forbid I wake up after 9am because I’ll immediately feel like I’m wasting the day. Lie in bed and try to crack all my knuckles and my back, gotta limber up for the day ahead.
Solo Date Morning:
Sitting outside in the sun in my knickers, drinking a black coffee, eating fresh poached eggs from the chooks, trying to find all the weird long hairs on my arms and legs to pull out. Maybe I’ll flick open the book I’m reading, or try and do the crossword in the paper. The cryptic? Too hard. This is meant to be a day of leisure and pleasure, not a fucking riddle fest.
After breakfast, brush my teeth and then pick all the bits of food out of my teeth with one of those little flossy picker thingies.
When I’m done with trying to pick all the lint and weird build up out of my belly button, I’ll go and get my weird dark chin hair lasered off. The smell of singed laser treatment hair is the smell of success, my friends.
Solo Date Lunch:
Something ridiculous, like a laksa in the middle of summer. Nothing screams “love me forever” like sweating your ring out over a bowl of hot soup in February. Plus it’s good to sweat out your demons once in a while, and I’m determined to not be defeated by any laksa I tackle.
If I haven’t already had a nap by this point, I’ll be propping up my laptop by the bath to binge-watch a couple of episodes of Survivor while I go through my bath routine, which goes as follows:
- Half fill the tub and turn the shower on, pretend I’m in a sinking ship in a storm.
- Try and fit my whole body under the water.
- Laughing at how buoyant my boobs are (seriously why do they do that?)
- Clean out my ears with my fingernails.
- Pumice scrub my feet.
- Moisturize in the bath
- Do that thing where you slide from top to bottom in the bath and make a little bath swell that would be sick to surf if I was shrunk down to like 5cm tall.
- Stay in the water until my hands go all pruned.
- Drain the bath but stay in there and watch the little water tornado down the plughole.
Solo Date Dinner:
Do you think I’m making something for dinner? Ha, hell no. This is the one day where I give myself a free pass on what I’m eating, so I’ll probably order something like an entire tasting platter from the Lebanese place down the road, and sit on the couch and watch Empire Records for the 400th time.
After that I’ll have something for dessert, maybe something ridiculous like buying a Vienetta and trying to finish it in one sitting. I’ll work it off at footy training next week, it’s fine.
While I’ve been fussing around all day I’ve also stripped my bed and put new sheets on because everyone knows that hopping into fresh sheets after a big shower or bath is the epitome of luxury. Not very weird, but definitely good as hell.
At The End Of The Night:
It doesn’t take me much to swindle myself into bed, I’ll tell you that for free. At this point I’m setting the mood with some candles and incense, and crawling into bed (fresh sheets!) with nobody but myself and Jeff Probst via more episodes of Survivor. Ok look I’m just in the middle of a big binge session at the moment where I’m rewatching all 39 seasons, ok?
And maybe I’m trying to figure out the perfect game strategy for when I eventually apply (I won’t), and maybe I’ve also been looking at where I can buy flint, so I can perfect my fire-making skills. You know, just in case.
If I’ve played my cards right over the day date, I’ll get lucky with myself. Because simply nobody else is gonna do it for me on Valentine’s, are they?