I flew to New York for a first date on Valentine's Day

Like all good Valentine’s Day celebrations, mine began on an eight-hour United Air flight to Newark Airport watching The Notebook and crying a little. But not in a tragic way. It started as the best idea I’d ever had. A ready excuse for when the inevitable ‘Galentine’s Dinner’ WhatsApp group is created. “Sorry ladies, I’ll be in New York!” I’d smugly write before leaving the chat.

Somehow Valentine’s decorations would be romantic in New York, where they make my eyes roll in London. Hinge would be an exciting way to find a date rather than a vortex of doomswiping. I would be in a new city with new possibilities.

I got in touch with friends, friends of friends, boyfriends of friends, and anyone else I could think of with connections in New York who might be able to set me up on a last-minute blind date on Valentine’s Day. Wasn’t this going to be fun? But then the replies started coming through: “None of my friends are single,” said one. “Sorry, all his friends are married!” wrote