There is a story that unites each of us with every animal on the planet… [we] have just one goal at the end… to leave offspring.
– Sir David Attenborough, “Life Story” Episode 1: “First Steps”.
As the sun rises over the skyline on February 14th, the city’s residents begin to stir, preparing for the day ahead. Today is the day of reckoning for these urban jungle-ites. Today is Valentine’s Day.
6:30am
Somewhere in Mid-Levels a nervous financier tiptoes out of bed and into the kitchen, careful not to wake his partner. His beloved pretends to sleep and spends the next few minutes calculating the amount of time she has for feigning surprise and a quickie before work.
In the kitchen, their helper puts the finishing touches on breakfast in bed: heart-shaped pancakes, scrambled eggs, strawberries – the works. It’s the perfect amount of cliche. By 7:15am all parties are sated and showered, and the pancakes haven’t been touched.
8:00am
A single woman rolls out of bed in Sheung Wan and makes her way to the kitchen. She sleepily says hello to her roommate, and sits down with a cup of coffee.
These are the precious moments of singledom she treasures: no pants, no man, no worries. She’s got all the time in the world to get ready, until she remembers it’s Valentine’s Day!
She rushes to the shower, shaves, deep conditions, moisturises seemingly in one fell swoop. By the time she leaves the apartment she is practically photoshopped.
Bring it on, Valentine’s Day! Not that she cares. She is a strong, independent woman.
11:15am
Valentine’s Day has brought it. Totally expected unexpected bouquets stream into the office, and are enviously eyed by all the non-receiving staff. Public displays of affection are one area in which size really does matter.
The singles gather together, separated from the herd of spoken-fors. Tired jokes are exchanged for half-hearted laughter, and they go back to their desks, alone in work as in life.
They will go out later under the guise of mocking this corporate holiday. Secretly, they’re all hoping to pull.
1:30pm
Lunchtime. A rebel few go rogue, breaking away from the pack and sneaking into their offices, surreptitiously closing doors and lowering blinds. It’s sext o’clock.
Eager to feed, the majority migrate to their watering hole. Couples discuss the evenings plans: reservations, gifts, “surprises”, while the singles pump each other up for a night to remember: the night every single person becomes thirsty as hell, and it’s like shooting fish in the proverbial barrel of LKF.
Or so they hope. The rest of the hour is spent discussing Tinder strategies while they hope they won’t need to use any.
7pm
With the work day behind them and the sun setting behind the cityscape, the males and females of Hong Kong make their way back to their respective enclosures.
They begin prepping for the battle ahead: as one razor glides up a slender leg, another goes down a chiseled jaw line. Earrings in. Cufflinks on. Stockings up. Brogues tied. One grabs a small velvet box, another grabs an iPhone.
One lowers the lights, the other lowers the Tinder radius. The time has come.
8:30pm
As the waiter pops the cork on a bottle of bubbles for the mates, the free agents slowly creep into the night. They have emerged not for sustenance, but for courage to aid them in the mating ritual.
If they are to find a mate, they must act quickly and with great stealth. To overcome competition, some individuals have perfected the art of mirror-creeping. To the untrained eye, they tilt their heads back with laughter. To the expert, they are shrewdly eyeing up the hottie to their back left in the reflection.
Across town another man lowers to his knee and pulls out a ring. Following social etiquette, the restaurant goes silent, she says yes, they applaud, and the happy couple spends the night in bliss, unaware of the copious judgement being thrown their way.
12pm
As meals across the city come to an end, waiters nervously dodge flying innuendos as ravenous customers loudly discuss their succulent dinners and filling deserts. Stay strong waitstaff, it’s almost over.
The crowds begin to thin in Wan Chai as some turn home, eager to escape the carnage that awaits. They were only out for a laugh anyway, they remind themselves. Once home, they lick their wounds and find solace in a Netflix binge.
3:00am
Significantly poorer and sweatier than when they started their evening, our lovers lie wasted in a tangled mass of limbs and debt-induced tears. The last hopefuls of the night still prowl the streets of Hong Kong.
With Tinder radiuses set to 1km, and a mass “you out?” text sent to every hookup they’ve ever had, they search high and low, scouring bar tops and dentist chairs for any familiar – or vaguely attractive – face.
While some will eventually stumble home victorious, there will be others who face a different fate. No longer do they wield their Tinder or a vodka-jelly syringe; they now carry the universal sign of defeat: a slice of Big Pizza.
Waiting for a taxi, the epiphany strikes: love is great, but pizza is better.
Words: Sarah Engstrand
Animations: Coconuts Media
