Valentines Digital Massacre
On the very first year that I received a Valentines card from a real girl, I ended the day with a bumper crop of six, I think, from six different girls. Sadly this was the zenith of my Valentines career, never to be even remotely equalled and as it turned out they were given to me without any intention of any frisson. At that young age, I learned that having a Valentine was little different than having a friend of the opposite sex.
Fast forward a decade or so and Valentines Night held the richest pickings for any singleton. Anybody seen out, not in a couple, was fair game and probably gagging for it. In order to ensure a presence on those fertile mating grounds, many relationships were terminated as January drew to a chilly close and plumage re-fluffed ready for the occasion.
A further decade later, and unsurprisingly, the opportunity to facilitate romance, or love is just a mouse click away. Fortunately that last minute jostle to get the least crappy remaining card at Clintons and frenzied dash to make the last post is no longer the only option. This Valentines Day you can go online can and send an anonymous e-card, plant a tree for your valentine, get a special February 14th recipe to make for your vegan lover, have your message translated into any language or have chocolates delivered that will apparently induce orgasm.
And if you fail to woo your intended target, then digital dating is enjoying huge success and has even become a badge of honour for a number of thirty something females who I know who have managed to so far allude the clutches of Mr. Right. Selling oneself online apparently no longer induces shame or embarrassment. I for one would rather join a religious order than advertise my GSOH on the Internet. Fortunately, I don’t have to anymore, as assuming death does eventually part my wife and I, I’m off the market. Though I was a little saddened to be informed that we weren’t celebrating Valentines Day this year as, with the baby on the way, there seems little point. I hope this is not an indictment of the state of my marriage.
One girl I know was introduced to some sperm on the internet. As luck would have it they hit if off and she is now the proud, single mum of a bouncing baby girl. All well and good, but doubtless tricky when the inevitable conversation comes up as to why daddy is a PIN number and a password of at least six characters including numbers and letters.
So this Valentines Night, if you find yourself without a date, then let technology be your friend.
Firstly, check out where all the singles bars and parties are online. Arrive dressed to kill, preferably with a wing-man or woman and make sure Bluetooth is enabled on your phone. As you walk in, you will be texted with random promotional messages offering you cheap deals on drinks that will improve your looks, confidence and help you dance better.
If you’re really lucky and a single person who fits your criteria drifts into your orbit, then you will receive an alert describing your potential mate, whether they own their own property and the likelihood of a snog. If, once you have made contact and decide to go home together, you can Zingo the nearest cab, that will arrive to you guided by GPS, and be home, wherever home is, within a jiffy. The following morning you can email your workmates with the details of your conquest, they can forward it onto a few other close friends and before you know it, you will understand that viral was not what the condoms were about and you can collect your P45 on the way out the door. Now who says romance is dead?
Sam Brownfield
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