Monday, 6 February 2012

Valentine’s Day, 2009.

Idiot and I had not been together for very long as of February 2009. It had been approximately four months since I had allowed him to start calling me his girlfriend and so he was still quite keen to impress me. Thusly, I anticipated an excellent February 14th.


If you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you may have noticed that things in my life tend to go the most wrong when I am least expecting them to. It’s just a thing that the universe and I have got going on - as long as I sit around being utterly miserable, my life stays on a fairly even keel. It is literally only when I am HAPPY OR SOMETHING that the universe remembers where I am and starts throwing things at me.

Our story begins with the deadline for my final-year Psychology dissertation, which just happened to fall on February 14th. I had been given an entire year to do this 10,000 word monstrosity, so of course we can assume that I had it finished well in advance… Hang on. NO WE CAN’T, because we are all well aware that I would rather slit my own throat than do an essay a single moment before it is necessary. Therefore, it will come as no surprise when I tell you that I was awake for four nights in a row, prior to Valentine’s Day, averaging 2500 words per twenty-four hours.

It was awful.

My lovely, thoughtful boyfriend*, when the 14th arrived, was only partially aware of the stress I had been under during the last week. (In those first few months I was still pretending to be well-adjusted, so I hid quite a significant amount of my personality from him.) Therefore he thought that I would appreciate his arrival at 7am, his arms laden with presents and a lovely breakfast, and had thought nothing of driving the two-hour journey from his home in Leicester to my flat in Lancaster at such an ungodly hour.

Romantic, no?

Needless to say, at 7am - after four days without sleep and with over 1500 words still to write - I was ready to curl up and die. But I didn’t. What I actually did was eat my breakfast, open some presents, and fall asleep on his lap for four hours. VERY CLEVER. Luckily, he had the sense to make me call my professor while I was cutting off the circulation to his lower half, and my deadline was extended.

The day continued in a similar way, if I’m honest. I would wake up, eat whatever favourite food Idiot had been out to buy for me, open another present, and fall back to sleep. It was nice. I think he liked it too. I imagine that having such peace and quiet in my presence was a wonderful change for him.

When I finally did wake up properly, ready to enjoy my happiness, the universe realised what was happening. Almost immediately, it responded by zapping Idiot’s mother with a potentially life-threatening brain-thing.


I kid you not, less than half an hour after I had regained full consciousness, Idiot got a phonecall from his brother declaring that their mother had been taken into hospital because her brain was bleeding.
(She had previously had a coil in it or something. It was a big deal. The brain is definitely not something you want to discover is bleeding.)

Anyway, being two hours away from home, he didn’t have time to hang around and wait to see if it was actually life-threatening.

So he left me.

On Valentine’s Day.**

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the only Valentine’s Day I have ever (almost) spent with a boy.


*I did not know, at this point, that he was a lying bastard.
**I understand that it is important to visit Mothers in hospital. BUT I also reserve the right to be annoyed by any and all things that ruin my happiness.