I love Valentine’s Day. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t. I hold a fondness for it so profound that it seems only fitting that it should form the topic of my first post. 

The anomaly I have long suffered from is that I seem to thrive on the romantic energy of St. Valentine more so when I am incredibly, and definitively…single. I love being single on Valentine’s Day. Socially, you cannot state that aloud more than once amongst the same company without the risk of sounding like a desperately lustful fibster succumbing to an assault of pitied glances from your friends in relationships that read “it’s okay, you can admit it if you’re lonely.” 

Personally, I struggle with the increasingly pessimistic energy surrounding what should be the most romantic date in the calendar. Tiktok videos or Instagram reels of creators complaining about a romanceless Valentine’s Day, I skip them instantly. I would be lying if I said I didn’t share in the sentiments and feelings of my fellow singletons (don’t get me started on the single person tax that poisons every area of single life). But, for me? Just not on Valentine’s Day. 

There is something so incredibly satisfying about embracing the romance and emotions of Feb 14th from an onlooker’s perspective. The ordinary interactions embraced by so many forms of love hitting different for a whole 24 hours, as if Olivia Dean’s I’ve Seen It is playing humbly from a jukebox on every street corner. A woman in her early thirties bent over in laughter having landed one of the few remaining men with a sense of humour. The wrinkled paws of an elderly couple clasped together as they embark upon their 30th, 40th, 50th Valentine’s Day stroll. The last-minute squabble of straight men at the entrance to M&S, trying to choose between tulips and roses. 

One of my earliest V-Day memories took place on a family holiday in rural England where myself and my sibling were presented with a selection of gifts from our parents. The only one of said gifts I can recall is a writing pen in the guise of a soft purple bear holding a love heart between its paws; my brother received a matching creature in blue. I’m sure my mother would deny consciously gifting the purple one to me solely on the basis that I was the more stereotypically feminine child. In the years that followed, and as my birthgivers gradually acknowledged we had outgrown this practice, the romantic gifting ritual was swiftly picked up by my close female friends. 

As a quality-time-over-everything lover, the commercialism of Valentine’s Day has never been the standout for me. Nevertheless, I am a strong believer that to truly embrace the positive side of the occasion, one does have to lean fully into the capitalism camouflaged as cheesy, cutesy charm (because a £1 chocolate lollipop from Sainsbury’s and a £2 ceramic heart bowl from Flying Tiger large enough to hold a handful of peanuts never hurt anyone). Receiving the adoration of a best friend whose love language is so blatantly gift-giving has been both my blessing and my curse. She consistently gifts me more between 13th-14th February than any romantic partner has ever given me, even when celebrating my most significant milestones. Elaborate bouquets of flowers. Hampers of treats with particular attention paid to my favourite chocolate. Bottles of champagne. No man could ever compete. 

I do hold a rather privileged position. I enjoy my own company. I’m at the stage of life where platonic love is more valuable than romantic connection. I have cultivated an abundance of love so strong that the absence of a romantic partner does not exclude me from sharing in the energy that my taken friends feel. Therein lies the precondition to a positive Valentine’s experience. Two things I have never felt on Valentine’s Day, regardless of relationship status, are lonely or unloved. 

This year, 2026, I spent Valentine’s Day engaging my most valuable talent: third-wheeling my couple friends. Having attended the Barbie movie’s opening night in July 2023 as a seventh-wheel (the group consisting of three couples plus me), this talent is pretty much second nature to me. And crucially, I love it. 

On this occasion, my best friend and her husband were the lucky pair. I had the joy of spending the entire day with said best friend while said husband was at work, the three of us coming together in the evening for a roast dinner cooked by them. (A roast dinner in England hits so much harder than it does in Scotland and I’m determined to study why). My contribution to the evening consisted of a box of chocolates gifted by my parents from their Norwegian cruise the previous summer which I had saved specifically for hosting a chocolate tasting. Valentine’s Day struck me as the perfect occasion to whap them out. 

1. Source Some Funky Chocolate – There is little point in having a chocolate tasting with samples drawn from your bog-standard brands. No one ever partook in a wine tasting of echo falls. The key is to have something a little bit different or unexpected to keep the mood intriguing and mysterious. I opted for Tastes of Norway’s souvenir box, consisting of 8 small blocks of different flavoured chocolate. Each block is divided into 4 smaller squares, perfect for sharing between 4 guests (or 3 with some leftovers). The beauty of this selection is its quirkiness, including seaweed, raspberry, blueberry and brown cheese flavoured chocolate. Each block represents a different Norwegian region, making it ideal for adding in some travel knowledge if one so desires. They have a full range of options, ideal for this kind of event (https://www.tastesofnorway.com/sjokolade/). 
2. Add Palate Cleansers – It is important, particularly when faced with some rather extreme flavours, to have at least one palate cleanser on the table to allow guests to reset their taste buds between bites of chocolate. Warm/room temperature water seems to be the best option and adding a carafe of water to the table adds to the visual experience and table dressing. Alternatively, neutralising foods such as cubes of white bread or green apple are also an option if you fancy adding an extra snack for guests to nibble on. 
3. Add Ambience – This can be as simple as lighting a candle or two. A neutral-ish candle (vanilla, cotton, anything White Company) adds to the sensory experience of the event and can act as a bonus element of palate resetting between chocolate samples. Hosting in the evening (particularly a cold, wintery one) adds to the mood and lighting.
4. Cultivate Your Layout with Some Personal Touches – There are few things as soul-searchingly satisfying as setting a table in preparation for friends arriving. On the approach to Valentine’s Day, the shops are oozing with tacky paper napkins, sickeningly pink candles and red heart confetti (to be rediscovered months later under the leg of a chair) – there really is no reason not to embrace it. I kept it simpler, with a sheet of greaseproof paper spread across the length of the table, each chocolate sample in neat little piles with their flavour etched on the paper in black Sharpie. If you have time and have planned well enough in advance, you might want to add some extra bits like individual printed scorecards. 
5. Keep a Note of Guests’ Rankings – Asking guests in turn to score each chocolate out of 10 is a good way to keep the evening interactive and can add a competitive flare if there is any dispute over claims to leftover samples. If you are feeling particularly snobby, you could even ask guests to guess what flavours are present in the chocolate akin to the vibe of sipping wine and spitting it in a bucket. A more Galentines’/single-person-budget friendly approach might consist of guests each bringing samples of their favourite chocolate, competing for the top spot. Although, I doubt my Cadbury’s Fruit & Nut would get me very far.

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