That’s not a unicorn, that’s a Trojan Horse

So, OK

You know those nights, the ones where you wake up and think – god I had a good night!

For me that’s usually a Friday night.

As far as the eye can see… it’s all weekend.

Every idea that’s tossed around is an absolute possibility, and the TGIF-flavoured spontaneity of a-changing plans keeps the fun rolling.

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Instead of waking up with a brutal hangover and a general dread about logging onto Facebook, you wake up with a smile on your face and aching thighs from displaying all your cool moves to Sweet Transvestite down at the Hip-E-Club, or remembering how you were telling a bunch of new friends an amazing story with such panache that they were eating obediently out of the palm of your hand.

Or maybe you ended up finding a fantastic new restaurant or bar that you wouldn’t have normally come across on your regular run-of-the-mill ‘lets just meet at The Garden’ Saturday night.

Or, in a laughing stupor at 1am with your partner or best mate in the line at HJ’s.

That. Right there. No matter how hard you try, that night just can’t be re-created in advance. Those nights are like unicorns.

This is why I reckon so many contestants on My Kitchen Rules bugger up their ‘no fail’ recipes, or thinking that Christmas Day is going to be simply awesome.

While chasing the unicorn can get your spirits soaring, it doesn’t mean you’ll actually catch the bastard and chain it up in the laundry.

You won’t.

It’s like holding wet soap in your hand – relax and it’s not going anywhere, but get too grabby and it’s all over the place.

So what happens when you try to manufacture the spontaneous unicorn? You get disappointed.

I feel the same way about The Date Night and Valentine’s Day.

These are special unicorns. They are very shy and slippery.

The Mister and I are optimistic but realistic kind of people. But Date Nights are not for us. But I realise why some people have them. I think they were invented by people who have young children or have wildly conflicting schedules, like FIFO.

I have to stop myself from saying that ‘every night is a date night’. It’s not. Every night is pretty typical though. It’s probably just the same as yours, whether you’re married, divorced, single, live with housemates or whatever. We get home, have some dinner, watch some TV, surf some internet, clean up a bit, brush teeth and go to bed.

I don’t like chasing unicorns on weeknights. I like weekday routine. I might, maybe, maybe occasionally meet up for one drink on a Thursday night, but generally not.

I know my unicorns only appear on weekends – specifically Fridays from 3pm.

We attempted a Date Night a few weeks ago. We just couldn’t be bothered in the end. We didn’t feel like putting ourselves in a restaurant or bar and see where the night took us – unless we’re with friends, we usually end up at the Tutti Frutti froyo shop and back home anyway.

OK, so maybe it’s the getting gussied-up and heading out for a night on the town. I get it. But I don’t really get it. To be honest, I am the most physically attracted to The Mister when he is talking to other people and I catch him out the corner of my eye, not sitting next to him in a restaurant talking about my day – that’s just normal and very un-unicorn-like.

The only other time is when he’s getting ready to go out, ironing his shirt, then pants, then does his hair and comes out and he’s all fresh and gorgeous and completely oblivious to his handsomeness. A unicorn kind of appears then.

I remember one Date Night I tried to recreate at home when we lived in Bunbury. It was a good attempt, delicious food, clean tablecloth, Simply Red playing in the background…. and we got really bored. So we packed everything up and played video games with some Smashing Pumpkins on in the background instead.

So we don’t do Date Nights. They’re too set-up and unicorn-less for us.

Same deal for Valentine’s Day.

We don’t celebrate it, not because it’s a Hallmark holiday, but because it’s also a manufactured unicorn. A manufactured unicorn doesn’t exist. It can’t.

What happens when you try to manufacture the unicorn?  Say it with me… disappointment.

Ladies, you know when a bloke says ‘smile’ to you… and you just want to twist their nipples off and headbutt them? That’s exactly what Valentine’s Day is for me. A forced smile that some drunk guy told you to paste on your face.

It doesn’t feel good. It feels empty, awkward and cheap. And you have one single day in the year to do it. Talk about pressure.

I don’t know about you, but I prefer the unicorn.

Especially the one you never saw coming.

So, while Valentine’s Day is all up in your grill – because it will be – how about we look at this differently.

Over the next few months, when you suddenly think ‘Hey I am just having the BEST time!’, that right there is your own personal Valentine’s Day. It might even happen more than a measly once a year.

And Hallmark can’t touch, let alone standardise, that unicorn.

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