Like all good Valentine’s Day celebrations, mine began on an eight-hour United Air flight to Newark Airport watching The Notebook and crying a little. But not in a tragic way. It started as the best idea I’d ever had. A ready excuse for when the inevitable ‘Galentine’s Dinner’ WhatsApp group is created. “Sorry ladies, I’ll be in New York!” I’d smugly write before leaving the chat.
Somehow Valentine’s decorations would be romantic in New York, where they make my eyes roll in London. Hinge would be an exciting way to find a date rather than a vortex of doomswiping. I would be in a new city with new possibilities.
