This Valentines day I decided to make things memorable. How does one, a single female in her early twenties, make a day for lovers and couples one to remember?

Do I throw a wild party? Make a sign that reads ‘Fuck Love’ and pretend my heart is as empty as my performance? That takes effort, so I create the most pathetic experience I’ve endured, by accident.

I woke up next to and old friend, a bed I used to sleep in, sure .. the remains of another failed romance. Best to wake up in your own mess I thought. He drives me to Bondi Junction to meet my family for breakfast, or some idea of brunch. I’m tired, grumpy for other reasons not outlining Valentines Day and even though I thought it wouldn’t affect me, and that it would be some passe experience that only the dramatic care about.. the thoughts crept in early when ‘brunch’ was with three couples, and me. Yep, a seventh wheel, better than a fifth, so much more pathetic than a third.

Sit at the table of the poorly organised cafe in Bronte, my order is wrong, and I’m the last to be served whilst the happy couples devour their food. Take an anti-depressant and Coca Cola for breakfast, my uncle mentions in passing that it’s the breakfast of a supermodel. If only I possessed some kind of glamour? Then maybe someone might care what I digest before 12pm.

I’m writing to you from the bar at Sydney airport. It’ pouring gray rain over a cement field of headlights and sponsorship signs - this reflects in my wine glass. The cheap house-wine I can’t afford.

I spend most of this breakfast family reunion in misery whilst running my tongue over the ulcers in my mouth. Even Coca Cola stings.
Eventually this progresses to Bronte Cemetery, in the rain. I remember being here when I was young, and being lost and feeling really afraid in the daylight. Maybe one of my first memories of fear? I’m not really sure, but this doesn’t move me and I wait in crypts for the rain to stop and make morbid jokes to my cousin. Being the masochist that I am, I take photos with tombstones and enjoy the contrast and concept. The dead are quiet, as I expected.

I’m a bit drunk now, and I think that I’ve lost my plane ticket, and people are turning to look at me, though I have my earphones in, so nobody speaks. Not to me, anyway. The barman asked what I did today, and the barman asked if I spent the day with a loved one and I told him I spent it in a cemetery and he asked if a loved one had passed, and I said no. He stopped asking me questions. I’m glad, I didn’t need him lighting my cigarette with the phrase ‘Tough day?’.

I say farewell to my uncle and his partner, to my cousins and their dates and it’s anti climatic and I feel particularly empty as I get in the car to Ally’s.

My wine is empty now. I’d get another, but the bartender might ask me why I hang out with the dead on a day like today. I don’t feel quick witted enough to provide the award winning answer that question deserves.

Like every other single woman, today I went and saw ‘Valentines Day’ at the cinema that completely sold out two sessions in a row. A showing for those who like to hurt themselves. I spend the time crying my eyes out. Because as cold as I’d like to be, the words, “I’ll never leave you” are certainly words I’d like to hear. I wait as the lights stay down through the credits so I can stop crying and then Ally drives me to the airport. The song in the car sings ‘On the line, love isn’t always on time’ and the irony misses the point and I don’t know why I’m still crying.

Now I keep locking eyes with lonely people and it stings more than the bitter wine swelling over my ulcers. I can’t connect my Internet, so I write this in a notepad and substances help us deal with reality, by escaping it, I’d lick the glass right now if I could. I board in thirty five minutes, and can’t get an Internet connection. I’m drunk, I’m drunk, I’m drunk and no one has sent me a single Valentines day text. Attempt to send a text to inspire an attempted return, phone goes flat - no ride home from the airport.

You’ve hit rock bottom Sam. Valentines day hit you like a ton of bricks and you know it.