I’ve come to accept that Valentine’s Day is an impossible “holiday” to ignore. Unless you live in Sudan, I suppose. Those red and pink greeting cards displays are erected sometime in early January, not so long after Christmas decorations have come down. And like snow, ice and Canada Goose jackets in Toronto, there is no way to avoid it.

For those of us who are single (hello!) and particularly cynical about finding love (hi again!) it’s just one of those things, like war and Lindsay Lohan’s fame, whose existence we have to accept.

And yet the pressure to find something to keep yourself occupied on this designated, mass-marketed day of forced love is insurmountable. So, last week, I did some research into things to do in Toronto on Valentine’s Day when you’re single.

The first thing that came up was an event called Heartbreak Karaoke at Supermarket in Kensington Market. If the name wasn’t enough to sell me on the spot, this line on the event’s website was the dealmaker: “We’ve got a karaoke machine, a microphone, sad, sad, sad songs, and enough bitter tears and sweet liquor to fill a swimming pool.”

Bingo! That’s all I needed.

Event organizer Serah-Marie McMahon says she started the event because she was sick of how “cheesy lovey-dovey” the lead-up to Valentine’s Day was getting.

“We take the idea of having to be brokenhearted on Valentine’s Day if you’re alone, and exaggerate it,” she says. “It’s fun and light-hearted and it’s not a bunch of people crying into their whisky.”

But, as with Fight Club, there are rules for Heartbreak Karaoke.

Rule No. 1: You can only sing songs about love. (McMahon points out this isn’t terribly limiting.)

Rule No. 2: If you’re not going to sing a song about love, you have to explain to the audience what the song means to you.

“We encourage people to be very confessional,” she says. Hence, the heartbreak.

McMahon is positive new love has blossomed at Heartbreak Karaoke among its patrons. It’s a queer-friendly party and there’s a good mix of single men and single women of and for all sexual preferences.

“It’s pretty even,” she says. “It’s not just a bunch of sad, single straight girls.”

I guess that means I won’t stand out. I’ll probably fit right in.