This time last year I took my Valentine to Syndicate

Ah Valentine’s Day, the celebration of love, passion and commercialised roses.

I was never a strong supporter of Valentines, or someone that got hugely into the spirit of it.

Maybe I had noticed how Valentine’s Day is merely a construction of corporations to increase sales in flowers and cards, or maybe I was bitter about my lack of success.

Yeah it’s probably the latter.

Casanova in his school days

Needless to say I was faced with a dilemma when I hit university, my first real attempt to have an actual valentine (I had learned earlier sending yourself cupcakes on the day does not count.)

My blissful ignorance of the day’s actual significance to real people in the real world was shattered as friends began asking me where I planned to take my date.

I became physically stressed and anxious for the days to come.

My stressed face

Were flowers ok? Were they too cheesy? Is being cheesy actually not cheesy? Or is thinking that really cheesy?

By the end of this conundrum I felt like I’d written a sequel to Inception. I came to the conclusion to go with my gut and to try my best to be the smooth, charismatic person I lied to people that I was.

And what did my gut tell me? It told me to take her to Syndicate.

And by unconventional I mean Bristol’s worst club

Syndicate is a place that will never be compared to a summer’s day. Syndicate is not where love’s month is ever may. Syndicate wouldn’t feature in a Richard Curtis rom-com and it doesn’t have a Valentine’s Day set menu.

Just lovin’ it @ Syndi

So there we were at Bristol’s only “super” club because I hadn’t planned anything better.

It was rammed with sweaty geographers and townies galore, all hoping for a bit of last minute Valentine loving.

The air was dense, the speakers reverberated a chart onslaught, encouraging the ritualistic dances of slut drops and slightly awkward grinding.

The drinks flowed, I lost fifty quid, and by 4am those “I’ve-lost-my-iphone-and-my-friends-don’t-like-me” crying sessions had spread from the smoking area to the inside of the club.

Who wouldn’t want to be groped by a banana on Valentines Day?

But much to my surprise, we both loved it.

How could the exact opposite of romance turn out to be so great? Well it was because in the end Valentine’s Day usually sucks.

By going to Syndicate instead everything became more interesting, the lights, the music, the dancing, hell even my texting was memorable.

If you do it “right” you’re rammed into some packed, overpriced restaurant filled with other couples. The service is terrible because their only motivation is to get you out as quickly as possible, so the next bunch of love sick puppies can be pushed inside.

Prices become crazy, set menus are a façade for something not even that tasty to hide behind, and on a student budget, you’re not going to be eating for the next week afterwards.

Fighting for a table on Valentines Day can be like this

Valentines is supposed to be romance’s utopia, where love is reinforced by a passionate scenario which goes off without a hitch. But this is illogical: striving for perfection just adds to the stress and makes the day even worse.

My valentine and I spent the night in a club being grinded against our will by a selection of townies, I got too drunk and probably embarrassed myself in front of a group of strangers, and in the end I can’t remember most of the night.

We got to hang with our friends, laugh and enjoy what is probably one of the strangest nights of the year to witness. It was cheaper than a restaurant and more memorable.

Nothing says “I love you” like being sick

After all who can remember some bog standard meal where nothing other than small talk about what you had for breakfast happens?

Going to Syndicate that night brought a barrage of funny stories I can still talk about, and by the end of the night we felt like we’d actually lived a little, instead of mechanically going through the motions at an overpriced restaurant.

Don’t be boring. If you’re lucky enough to be with someone you care about do something crazy.

It will make it way more memorable.