COS­MOPOLI­TAN CON­TRACT The First Valen­tine’s

This is an agree­ment made by A Per­son Kinda Dat­ing Some­one On Valen­tine’s Day,

Cosmopolitan (UK) - - Contents -

_______________________________ (here­after re­ferred to as The Ad­mired) 1 THE BLUFF

As Valen­tine’s Day ap­proaches, The Ad­mired will take care to make very clear that she doesn’t give a sh*t about it. This will in­clude, but is not lim­ited to: rolling her eyes at Moon­pig ad­verts; loud speeches about the pa­tri­archy; mut­ter­ing about it all be­ing “a mar­ket­ing ploy”; the odd rant about how she’d never wear red satin un­der­wear. She will tell ev­ery­one that she plans to spend the evening watch­ing a war doc­u­men­tary and de-mould­ing the shower.


Three days be­fore V-Day, The Ad­mired will re­ceive a mes­sage from That Per­son She’s Kinda Dat­ing, sug­gest­ing they get to­gether on the 14th ‘for food or what­ever.’ The Ad­mired will seek sec­ond opin­ions from friends, col­leagues or, fail­ing that, her barista. Are they aware of the sig­nif­i­cance of that date? Had it crossed their mind?! ‘Cool,’ she will mes­sage back. ‘I like food. Or what­ever.’


The Ad­mired will spend ap­prox­i­mately three hours comb­ing the in­ter­net in search of a Valen­tine’s card that man­ages to be funny, arty and sar­cas­tic, yet also some­how im­bued with the sub­tle mes­sage that she might be The One. She will try to think of an in-joke to ref­er­ence and find she has mag­i­cally for­got­ten ev­ery con­ver­sa­tion they’ve ever had. She will then go to Paper­chase and end up buy­ing a card with an ironic poo joke on it.


On Valen­tine’s Day, The Ad­mired will spend all day try­ing to main­tain a neu­tral ex­pres­sion while pretty much ev­ery per­son in her of­fice gets a huge bunch of flow­ers de­liv­ered. She will watch as they In­sta­gram them, pri­vately judg­ing each one on tack­i­ness. Later her stom­ach will flip as a courier ap­pears to walk straight to­wards her desk with a vast bunch of peonies, but these will turn out to be for Lu­cia, who got the pro­mo­tion The Ad­mired was hop­ing for.


Hav­ing de­cided her cu­lottes and over­sized jumper don’t say ‘cute and cosy’ so much as ‘tak­ing the bins out,’ The Ad­mired will panic-buy a new out­fit on her lunch hour. It will fea­ture vel­vet, lace, lurex, an awkward con­vert­ible bra or all of the above. De­ter­mined not to let any­one at work know that she might be chang­ing her hard­line stance on com­mer­cialised ro­mance, she will end up get­ting changed for her date-or-what­ever in the toi­lets at the Caffè Nero round the cor­ner.


Writ­ing her Valen­tine’s card on the damp counter next to the sugar sa­chets and nap­kins, The Ad­mired will discover too late that the mes­sage in­side her ca­sual card reads ‘Al­ways and for­ever, my soul­mate.’ She will be forced to cover this up with a hastily drawn erotic sketch.


The Ad­mired will ar­rive at the venue for her ca­sual din­ner to find it is cov­ered in red stream­ers and heartshaped bal­loons, and the only menu on of­fer is a five­course aphro­disiac shar­ing ban­quet for two, priced at £45 a head. She and That Per­son She’s Kinda Dat­ing will laugh ner­vously as they are ser­e­naded by a full mari­achi band play­ing John Leg­end cov­ers. Get­ting into the spirit of things, The Ad­mired will hand over her ‘ironic’ card. “Oh,” Date-Or-What­ever will say, look­ing awkward.“Sorry. I’m just not re­ally, like, into Valen­tine’s Day.”

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