I’ve got a suggestion. Bear with me on this; it’s a little odd. I propose that we turn January 21st into Kierkegaard’s Day.
Kierkegaard, for those of you whose knowledge of Danish existentialists is a little rusty, was a hunchback philosopher who fell head over heels in love with a young lady, got engaged, then panicked and broke it off only to pine over her for the rest of his life a blubbering, celibate wreck. He should be the patron saint of all men everywhere, or perhaps just me.
He also wrote a whole bunch of profound stuff, but that’s not important right now.
January 21st, for those of you aware that it’s been designated the most depressing day of the year, is the most depressing day of the year. Xmas and New Year’s are blurry memories, we’re cold and skint, and the wretched realisation of our futile existence burns deep into our empty souls. Ok, just me again.
Now here’s where I bind all this together into a clumsy mess: We should honour this day in memory of the lovelorn Kierkegaard as an antidote to the most annoying day of the year: St Valentine’s.
St Valentine’s Day is a sham; a corporate guilt trip for anyone partnered up, while for the rest of us it’s a scornful reminder of how much sex we’re not getting (*cough*). On Kierkegaard’s Day, single people will rule. Couples shall hide in their rooms while the solos trawl streets overflowing with grinning desperados, celebrating the existentialist tenet that we are all unique in a hostile and indifferent world. We can go to restaurants alone, safe in the knowledge that we’re in some kind of real-life dating website with food. We can approach others with ready-made chat up lines; ‘Did you know that Kierkegaard thought sex was an abomination? Let’s be abominable.’
And if we still find ourselves staggering home alone, hot tears of bitter regret rolling down our fat, ruddy cheeks, at least we can appease ourselves with the thought that it’s the most depressing day of the year anyway, and our hero Kierkegaard, one of the world’s foremost thinkers and theologians, died a virgin.
I’ll take that over St Valentine’s Day.