Happy Valentine's Day... Unless you're sickeningly in love.

February the 14th. Valentine’s Day, Singles Day, Hey I’m free and loving life totes #YOLO day. Call it what you will, I’m here to throw bitterness and misery all over the day. Not necessarily because I’m full of jealousy over the happy couples, they annoy me all year round. Instead it’s the flaunting of the different and ‘hilarious’ emotions and comments thrown around by online smart arses that really make the day irritating.

Valentine’s Day causes a divide between those who love a soppy poem and those who have yet another reminder they are unlovable (you’re single all year anyway, deal with it) or those who hate the fact that people buy into the earlier mentioned slushy love poem.

Regardless of what category you fall into, it provides the perfect chance for people to hashtag jokes, upload pictures of roses to Facebook, spend time with their right hand or use it as an excuse to update their blog. Or publicly wallow in self-pity posting the occasional Adele lyric onto Facebook or Twitter. If this is you, then you have pretty much established why you are alone. Forever.

However, if you are single and loving it on Valentine’s Day, then it’s the perfect chance to quote Lord Jason of Derulo and have a YOLO “I’m Ridin’ Solo” moment.

For those who read my not so regular posts on a regular basis, you’ll know that my mother and her words of wisdom are mentioned on a regular basis. As she thinks I’m destined for a lifetime on dating sites, it would be rather silly of me to write a blog about the day of romance without mentioning a snippet of our pre Valentine’s chat (condensed down from the “You’re just too damn fussy” and less interesting conversation).

As the only one in the family not receiving any sort of card or heart-shaped chocolate (Yolo, I’m ridin’ solo) my mother has yet to arrange a Mark Darcy style character to sweep me off my feet, choosing instead to play what I’m calling ‘Friends to Lovers Roulette’. I’m christening it this because the conversation went along the lines of my mother deciding that I was more likely to end up with someone I know, than actually managing to pull a Mark Darcy. If she had the chance she would have gone through my albeit rather small phone book, picked someone at random and demanded that I sext them. Which would have been disappointing, as my idea of a sext involves making innuendo out of the word Tardis.

So alas, today will come and go, and once more my mother will be more disappointed by my lack of anything than I am. Whatever you’re doing today, enjoy it. Just hold back on the annoying hashtag/irritating photos of a breakfast you’re getting in bed/how you’re loving life on your own. #yolo