Look, I never HATED Valentine’s Day…but, I never loved it either. Sure, getting those teeny cards at school made my heart gloat, but that was as good as it got for the most part. I did get a micro camera lens ONE year, after being with the ex for SEVEN years, and the next year I even got a lamp from him. At the time, I did love lamp, it lit my closet up that had no other working light in it, so that was pretty cool.
The Valentine’s since breaking up with Boyfriend are a blur, I remember no such days existing the past two years. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t block them out or anything; I wasn’t like, sitting on the couch eating ding dongs (the chocolate kind), crying and drinking wine. Psst, I’m a beer girl!
Last year I saw John Wick 2, and ate a Brava’s hamburger with mistake number 235 as my date. At least the patata’s were delectable.
Realistically, the “holiday” never really meant much to me as I became so accustomed to disappointment. For the love of saints, the concept is a bit ridiculous, as the day marks two separate occasions that Emperor Claudius II, straight murdered two guys (both named Valentine) on February 14th each time. Suuuuper romantic.
Inevitably, there are gonna’ be a couple types of people posting on February 14th. There will be the sweet photos of flowers and chocolates bought at Walmart, last minute. There will also be others who lament their only love of the day is a taco.
You are all entitled to feel however the hell you want to about the day. You can be jubilant, you can be sappy; overjoyed, bitter, angry, sad, neutral. No one can take your feelings from you. So, all my in-love-birds, my single guys and gals, do motherfucking you. You watch that Lifetime marathon alllll you want, you smooch in those pics allll you want. Wear pink, wear black, wear a Christmas sweater with a llama on it, I don’t care.
I don’t know, maybe this is all easy for me to say because, for the first time in my 33 years, I know what it means to say “I love you,” to a man, and without a doubt know I mean it. Where I’m at in life, I genuinely receive enough love from him, friends, and my kickass family that sometimes I think I might poop myself from gratitude. Normally, I’d hate someone like me right now. But oh, did I earn the spot I’m in now.
It’s as if the second I decided I was ok alone, was the day the world decided I was in fact not, and finally threw me a bone. (Note: I am not a victim here, and I messed up a whole mess of nice guys prior to changing my ways.)
Me and Manfriend aren’t doing Valentine’s Day. In the past, I always hoped for flowers, cards, candy, fancy dinners. This year, I have every intention of sitting on the couch and watching Altered Carbon with Manfriend. This is because I spent years of figuring out what the shit I didn’t want. I can say what I want, and I can be assured someone on the other end is listening, and candy ain’t it.
But romantic relationships aside, I’m not going to sit here and tell you you’re going to eventually find that guy or girl. I know for a fact that sentiment doesn’t help. I will tell you, to hold on to whatever love you have. In the deepest part of my singledom and sadness, sometimes the only thing that eased the pain was a hug from my mom. Your friends are your lifeline, tell them how much you love them. Squeeze your friggen cat to death until it mauls you. When all else fails, eat a donut, and watch Kill Bill or Troll 2.
More importantly, every single day other than February 14th, do the work. Clean the bathroom, change the toilet paper roll, tell them they’re cute mid-sentence, laugh at their jokes, touch their butt, listen to their music, make them listen to yours, pay the check, tell them you’re mad, tell them you’re happy, sit on the living room floor and sing your heart out to Florence and the Machine, fold their underwear, make them buy you tampons, wink seductively every time you get.