“Having the unfortunate blessing of being born on Valentine’s Day, I’ve spent most of my birthdays awkwardly sharing heart-shaped desserts with my parents in candlelit restaurants packed with murmuring couples, despite my desire to hole up, order in pizza and call it a night. “You must be the Brickman party,” the maitre d’ would inevitably sniff as we walked in, sizing up the four or six of us – depending on whether or not my sister and I brought dates – before leading us to a hidden table in the back. This year, I have my first real shot at a two-person dinner. My family is back in New York, and as is the case most years, all my friends are either paired off and have booked romantic dinners or are single and plan to spend the night sadistically watching “The Bachelor” with a bottle of vodka.”