One month following Valentines Day, the supposed romantic highlight of the year, comes S & BJ Day. You can look up what that means yourself, you didn’t hear it from me. It is supposed to be the opposite of Valentines day, an anti-romantic holiday.
At its heart I think it is a reaction against crass commercialisation rather than against romance. It is, at it’s heart, still a quest for companionship. It does not reject the fundamental notion of two people wanting to be together. Instead it rejects all the socio-cultural and commercial baggage that gets between two people. It tries to pare the relationship back to raw basics.
In this regard it treads a well worn path. How many times have you seen the narrative of the US Bachelor Party movie, where the groom or bride and his or her buddies have one last fling? And how do these movies end? With a wedding. With true love and a lifelong commitment. They end in happy ever after.
A Contingency Plan: by Suzannah Evans
What if we’re apart when the asteroid comes,
or the magnetic storm that shuts off the power?
You could be waiting for a train as the sun’s bulb
flickers out, high above the glass-panelled roof.
I’ll be at work. We’ll lose the phone lines,
the door-entry system will go haywire.
I will eat from the vending machine,
drink from the competition cupboard
and sleep on nylon carpet with my colleagues
all of us three-weeks unwashed. Stay where you are –
I’ll abseil down eight floors on a rope
fashioned from the supply of festive tinsel,
loot M&S, steal a bike and make for the M1
forty miles of silence and abandoned cars
so we can witness the collapse of civilisation
with a picnic of high-end tins
so I can lie in your arms on a rooftop,
our dirty faces lit by fires.