MANILA, Philippines - As someone who’s single in the city, you’ve probably coped with Valentine’s Day festivities the same way many sane people do: with copious amounts of alcohol. This year is no different, and while you’ve searched Tinder for a potential love match, it just seems weird to go on a blind date for Valentine’s. You’ve decided that this year will be a good year for mature decision-making, and because nothing comes without consequences, perhaps the best way to get through this day as quickly as possible might be to keep it low-key.
It’s 5 o’clock, and all the lovebirds at the office have packed up their flowers, singing telegrams, chocolates, champagne, and sparkly presents. They’ve all rushed out the door for their special Valentine’s plans, and you’re left with a decision:
• Do you head home? (Skip to paragraph A.)
• Do you avoid the traffic and clock in some overtime? (Skip to paragraph B.)
A
You brave the traffic and head home. You’re envisioning a sexy sextuple cheese pizza and deciding which seminal classic to view tonight: 10 Things I Hate About You, When Harry Met Sally, Notting Hill, or even Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (depending on the personal tragedy level of your love life). Suddenly, you receive the following text: “Stop being lame and come out with your friends tonight. We have shots with your name on them.â€
• Shots over rom coms, any day of the week. (Skip to paragraph C.)
• Ignore the text. You’ve got a date with your hard drive (pun unintended). (Skip to paragraph D.)
B
You’ve finished up typing those reports and you’re finally ahead of your own deadlines. You decide to check your e-mails one last time and see that The Ex of Christmas Past has sent you a message. It’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing, appearing to ask how you are while inserting a generous amount of humblebragging. They’re doing well in life, you hate your job, and down the emotional rabbit hole we go.
• Compose a thoughtful, equally humblebraggy reply. (Skip to paragraph E.)
• Bust out the YouTube karaoke — after all, hardly anyone is left at the office. (Skip to paragraph F.)
C
You meet up with your friends at the local bar, where you’re surprised to find a lot of cute, equally single, and emotionally vulnerable singletons milling about. You make eye contact with one of them as you order drinks at the bar, but ignore it and stay with your friends. The room starts getting a little fuzzy after some apple pie shots. You see the cutie at the bar lock eyes with you again.
• What the heck, just ask them to dance already. (Skip to paragraph G.)
• Nope. Bros before hoes, dude. (Even if you’re not actually a bro.) (Skip to paragraph H.)
D
You arrive at your house, where you get cozy in your worn-out tee and fuzzy slippers. You press play on the rom-com as you crack open the beers. You’re pleasantly buzzed, and before you know it, you’re on Instagram, stalking your ex, who has a new significant other that is…
• Quite frankly, a 2 out of 10. (Okay, maybe a 5, but let’s say it’s a 2.) (Skip to paragraph I.)
• Too beautiful to fathom. (Skip to paragraph J.)
E
You start a draft that turns into several drafts that turn into what can only be called a diary entry, unable to come up with anything good enough. At this exact moment, Office Crush strolls by and nods politely, and you inexplicably begin to weep.
• Confide in Office Crush. (Skip to paragraph K.)
• Run away. Far away. (Skip to paragraph L.)
F
Adele is your friend. You crack open your secret stash of whiskey and launch into a heart-wrenching rendition of One and Only, with full feelings and eyes shut tight. You suddenly realize your boss has been standing there, watching you for God knows how long.
• Acknowledge the presence of your boss, hoping that makes it less awkward. (Skip to paragraph M.)
• Will the earth to swallow you whole. (Skip to paragraph N.)
G
You roll up to that cutie, full of confidence and swag, and hear the answer “yes.†Your bodies move to the beat, and you start feeling the connection. A couple more drinks in and you start to believe you’re the second coming of Britney Spears (circa early 2000s) where dancing is concerned. The mysterious, sexy stranger leans in for a kiss, and then it’s all kind of a blur.
The morning after: The cutie in question, judging from last night’s photos, turned out to be pretty cute after all. However, they left you a text message reading, “Saya q p0 kgabe. San n u pmunta? Hihi p0hz.†Adding insult to injury, you also realize that you looked more like you’re in need of medical attention than a contestant on So You Think You Can Dance?
H
The party keeps rolling with your friends, although you do keep glancing at the mysterious stranger at the bar. After a round of recounting your worst collective exes, during which you decide it’s wise to do one shot per jerk, you stumble towards the bathroom. Bar Hottie is just coming out of the bathroom, but you can barely remember any human words, and you might be just about ready to hurl.
The morning after: Last night was one for the books, especially judging from the fact that your head is pounding, your attire is still last night’s clothes, and you have no idea how you even got home. There is the teensiest bit of regret, though, wondering what might’ve happened if you just bit the bullet and approached Bar Hottie.
I
In a moment of absolute schadenfreude, you look through Ex’s photos, and your drunken fingers accidentally double tap the screen, liking a photo from three weeks back. Cue the look of horror as you realize that even if you un-like, your ex already knows you were looking through their photos. On Valentine’s Day. Um, where’s the tequila?
The morning after: You wake up, covered in tequila and Bacardi 151 (a.k.a. The Devil’s Piss). You realize you went the full social media bender and liked some randoms on Tinder, who are now messaging you non-stop. Pull up a map and search for the nearest body of water you can throw your phone into.
J
The new significant other is the human equivalent of Jackpot — good-looking, great body, fabulous job, cooks, gives great presents, and seems to have all their shit figured out. Before you know it, you’re Bridget Jones, screaming out Celine Dion’s All By Myself into a bottle of wine before crashing headfirst into your own sofa.
The morning after: You open your eyes, phone still in hand, and focus on the caption: “Sneak peak (sic) of tonight’s dinner.†You can rejoice now, however minor a thing this may be. They might seem perfect, but at least you understand the difference between “sneek peek†and the summit of a sneaky mountain.
K
Before you can stop yourself, you tell Office Crush your entire romantic history with said ex. Office Crush looks trapped and uncomfortable, but you keep going on, until they give you a consolatory pat on the back, turn over the bottle of wine they were planning to bring to dinner, and run. Oh well, at least there’s wine.
The morning after: More than the hangover, you’re covered in shame and wonder what to say to Office Crush when you see them at work. You begin composing a message to them, but end up composing the perfect reply to Humblebrag Ex. It starts with “F†and ends with “You.†Send.
L
Red-hot with embarrassment atop the sadness, you make a break for it, but Office Crush stops you and takes you to their office. “I’ve been hiding out here because I just got out of a breakup myself,†they say, leading you to their desk, which has vodka, junk food, and what seems to be Sixteen Candles playing on the office computer.
The morning after: You wake up, all giddy and suddenly very fond of Molly Ringwald. You realize that Office Crush may not be ready for anything serious any time soon, but as they send you a message on Facebook asking if you’re as hungover as they are, you can’t help but feel the gods smiling down on you.
M
“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was still here,†you say. Your boss looks at you with absolute pity, saying “I think you should go home soon,†looking pointedly at the whiskey bottle. You nod yes, then figure the fastest way to digest the embarrassment and make the alcohol disappear all at once is to drink the whole damn thing.
The morning after: It’s hard waking up this morning, questions regarding your employment burning in your mind. You check your mail and see an inter-office memo has already been sent. “No drinking on the premises after office hours, but listening to Adele is okay so long as kept to a reasonable volume.†Well, at least you’re not sacked.
N
The earth, annoyingly, disobeys your request. Your boss suddenly says, “I love Adele. Do you have another glass?†You don’t talk about it, you both just sing and drink. It’s kind of fun. It’s actually kind of comfortable. You kind of want to put your hand on theirs to see what it feels like.
The morning after: What you thought to be some drunken thoughts keep rolling around in your mind. What can you do about it? Did they get the vibe, too? What’s it going to be like when you see each other again? You decide to keep it professional, as long as they stop being so dreamy.
Crap, you’re screwed.
* * *
Congratulations on the hangover, darling. At least you’ve survived this year’s Valentine’s, and even though your liver is probably very unhappy with you right now, take solace in the fact that you’ve lived a little. Maybe next year, that low-key plan will finally push through (we know, we know, we had a hard time keeping a straight face saying that, too). Now, go spend the day in bed, hydrating, watching crap TV, and eating bacon. You deserve it!
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