I know it's Valentine's Day because it's the only time of year people keep awwing at single women. Remember - similar some sects of religion - single-guilt tries to get you when you're already down. It's easy to feel like you need someone when it's still a cold, dark winter.
Now imagine someone tipping their head and saying "shame" at you when it's summer and you're on a beach with all your friends. Doesn't really work as well, does it? Anyway, it's just 24 hours. It's the same as Mother's Day - you might get breakfast in bed once a year but you spend the other 364 days cleaning up shit.
The date's named after a gangster massacre so how special do you expect it to be? I'm only ragging on Valentine's Day, not on romance. This year it's a bit different because my on-again off-again adult sleepover partner has announced he's cooking dinner and I will be there to eat it.
I'm surprised because it's a bit more lovey dovey than our deal stipulates but, like Mariah Carey, I haven't made a meal for myself in 10 years. Not since school Home Economics when I unsuccessfully tried to pass a store bought pizza off as my own and my teacher didn't care enough to fail me.
How I get around never cooking for people is really simple. The answer to all is picnics. Go into the supermarket and buy some cured meats, dips, cheeses - you know the drill. Arrange them all, do a hand gesture like you're a magician's assistant or late night QVC model. "Look! Look at all the stuff I've bought and put on the table. None of it's hot. I hope that's ok."
So preparing for a new life of eating some meals together, me and my V-day partner were in Sainsbury's. Me talking about picnics like I invented them, him very impressed with my picnic-ing abilities.
Now, the best thing about being single is you can flirt with other people, swap numbers and keep your options open. The problem is they're also allowed to come into Sainsbury's when you're on a date with someone else.
So there we were. Me, On-Off-Again-V-Day-Partner and Guy 2, standing side-by-side, looking at cheeses. I'm a fast mover and a professional so I'd already wrapped my coat around my head. I didn't realise stuff like this happens in real life, so I whispered to On-Off I needed conditioner and prawns and I'd meet him outside.
Ten minutes later I'm peering through the gap in the bakery aisle, watching Guy 2 play with his phone, I find out in the time it takes to deliver a text it was for me - "what are you up to?" an innocent question unless you're spying on them through some bagels.
So how does this story end? Well it doesn't. I leave the shop and carry on doing whatever I like all the time. God, being single is great.
Single this Valentine's Day? You can still treat yourself...