The day Valentine was slaughtered

My younger sister pointed out that we celebrate love on the day that St Valentine was martyred. Perhaps it is a play on the idea that we are all martyrs of love?

My Valentines Day started off depressingly normal, I left to go to the library at 9am and then had classes and lectures until 7pm in the evening. I had hoped that Adam would actually keep his word and surprise me with flowers or a card or something along those lines, but I was disappointed as usual.

At around 6pm I got several messages from my roommate, Britney, that Anna, our other roommate, had broken her ankle and was in the hospital, waiting to get operated on. I was in a lecture then, and said I would rush back a.s.a.p. after my lecture and head straight to the hospital, but was told that she couldn't have visitors yet.

At the end of the lecture, Branton asked me if I could help him pick out flowers for his mum, who he was meeting. I said yes and suggested a flower stall. We walked there together and spent some time arguing over the best colour of roses and the perfect bouquet. He bought one, thanked me, and we went our separate ways.

While walking back towards my Halls, it was sickening to see hoards of couples milling about, the women clutching flowers and cards and the men holding on tightly to their 2013 Valentine choice. Do people just wait until 14th Feb to celebrate love?

I arrived back home, and Britney said that we can go to the hospital now, so I dropped my bags and headed straight there. I was exhausted, but worried about Anna, she had seemed fine in the morning, but a broken ankle sounded really serious. We reached the hospital and after much ado, finally managed to track her down. She looked pale, but said she couldn't really feel any pain.

The attractive doctors kept all three of us roommates distracted as we made small talk, discussing what her parents wanted her to do (they lived in Spain and wanted her to fly back for the operation). We stayed at the hospital long enough to make sure Anna was comfortably settled and promised to come back in the morning with all the things she needed.

Me and Britney headed back to Halls, bemoaning our lack of 'love' on Valentines. We reached and decided to watch a romantic movie to at least lighten the mood. We watched Sandra Bullock's Two week's notice which was a dull and predictable movie, but it definitely got us more involved into the mood of the night. We both headed off the bed soon after, but I felt like I had made it.

I had been so worried about this day, for no reason. It seemed that everything I was scared of revolved around the idea of being alone, but it was just another day - why did it have to be such a big deal?