13/02/2015 12:37 GMT | Updated 14/04/2015 06:59 BST

A Translation of Facebook Statuses on Valentine's Day

STATUS: The boy done good!

TRANSLATION: Check out how much money my boyfriend has wasted on me this year, bitches.

V-Day for women is all about one-upmanship: "I see your hot air balloon ride and I raise you a hundred red roses!" Unless your proposal was sung to you by a large Disney flashmob atop a mountain at sunrise, you've essentially lost at Valentine's Day. That £200 Pandora necklace is just not going to cut it, my friend. Better luck next year.

STATUS: Loving single life ATM!!!

TRANSLATION: Please, for the love of God, someone show this to my ex.

We all know that you're hoping your status spreads like social wildfire and ends up in the hands of your ex, but it's likely that he's probably too busy getting blown by his new girlfriend - she doesn't have a "hypersensitive gag reflex" - to be checking up on you and your regular notifications on single life (UPDATE: STILL AWESOME!!!!!!).

There's a simple equation that applies to the status updates of singles: each exclamation mark used is equal to the amount of determination that has gone into trying to convince everyone that single life is the tits. Everyone is glad you're enjoying single life so much because it means that maybe, just maybe, you'll stop calling people at 3am and crying so hard down the phone that you dry-heave.

STATUS: Guys make the best friends!!!!!

TRANSLATION: Srsly though, show my ex...

If he wasn't jealous at the fact that you're supposedly loving your newfound singledom, your ex boyfriend wont be too fussed that you're now hanging around with a bunch of guys. He's aware of what your status is implying, but again, he's having sex with the lights on(!) and so doesn't really have the time to put too much thought into the image of you gettin' weird with a ton of dudes. Anyway, most of your guy friends are his guy friends, and he knows you've adopted them as your own for the sole purpose of asking questions about his new girlfriend and whether she's ugly or dumb or both. He's just relieved that you've got some new guys that have to hold your hair back at the end of a night out when you're being sick in the street, hurling up vodka sodas like an inebriated alley cat.

STATUS: I'm just so happy getting back to me.


Continuously updating your Facebook friends with your happiness levels is a sure sign of the lady doth protest too much. A drive past this person's house is guaranteed to show a recycling bin overflowing with wine bottles and a peek through the window will reveal an ever-expanding pile of Wispa Gold wrappers and Unbreak My Heart by Toni Braxton on loop.

STATUS: Everyday is Valentine's Day when you're in love!

TRANSLATION: I don't want to go out on Valentine's Day / My partner can't be bothered with Valentine's Day but that's cool, we'll just stay in and watch MOTD, I guess.

Get a grip, guys. Everyone knows you're lying.

STATUS: Who needs a boyfriend when you've got best friends!

TRANSLATION: Warning - guilt trip ahead.

This is an example of sneaky guilt-tripping at its best. It insinuates that your friends are all that you have on this difficult day, and if they were real friends, they would be there for you. Come rain or shine, dinner date or surprise engagement, your buddies should be outside your front door at 7pm sharp, bottles of Pinot at the ready, and provide you with a number of flattering theories as to why you're still single. And, when you finally cry yourself into an inebriated slumber at 9.30pm, they should wash the Doritos dust from your fingertips and cover you with a blanket. Yeah they're two hours late to dinner at Pizza Express with their significant other, but that's what friends are for, right? RIGHT? Right.

STATUS: It's February 14th, which can only mean one thing: PARTY!

TRANSLATION: I'm going to a traffic light party and I have no idea what I'm in for.

Ahh traffic light parties, where the people are the only thing more bitter than the lemon slice that comes with your shot of tequila shot. A sea of green dotted with amber, a siting of a red will be rare, because they're at home gettin' some with their other halves. Ambers are made up of guys who hang out in the back section of Ann Summers to scout out lonely women, and girls that aren't sure about their new boyfriend because he's too nice and are keeping their options open.

With their buffet of tequila and steak McCoys, singles events serve as a group therapy session where everyone's waiting to tell and no one's willing to listen. You spend the night drunkenly telling a stranger why you'd never date a younger man again (they just don't know how to handle your emotions) and cry-dancing to Single Ladies. Eventually you give yourself two equally unappealing options: 1) go home with the amber who pretended to buy you a free shot at the bar; or 2) go home alone, eat a bag of out-of-date marshmallows and listen to Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran on repeat, singing along emotionally with the shouty bit at the end. This status will be erased by noon on the 15th, out of shame and a desperation to forget the previous night's existence.