Hi all. Yeah, I’m alone on Valentine’s Day. Haven’t left the house or spoken to another person, at least so far, yet today—and I’m not particularly bothered by it. A day spent alone is a good thing (even if it is VD), though a life spent alone is decidedly not.
When I was a kid, Valentine’s Day was fun, because we had a party at school and ate pink and white cupcakes and exchanged those silly little 30-to-a-box valentine cards, and nobody worried about having a sweetheart.
Then, things turned black. I spent way too much of my teens and twenties believing that love and romance and sex and valentines and all that stuff were for Other People, Not Me, no matter how much I might desperately want them. I didn’t have a girlfriend, had no clue how to get one, had no hope that anyone would ever want me. (How’s that for a self-fulfilling prophecy?) And Valentine’s Day was when my nose was rubbed in it, and the despair and bitterness reached their peak. I could really identify with Charlie Brown.
Until somehow I did have a relationship, that lasted several years, some of them quite happy, and several Valentine’s Days when I actually had something to celebrate, when I wasn’t one of the left-out, unattached, unloved ones.
Well, that’s over now, for reasons we need not go into here, but it has left me with some valentinesy crap (like a coffee mug that I still use) and hope for the future. So this year, I’m just taking it easy, a little relieved that I don’t have to shop or spend money or worry about finding something to go out and do for Valentine’s Day. But there will be plenty of Valentine’s Days in my future, and, with any luck, I won’t be spending all of them alone.
Just wait until next year! I’ll need two briefcases to hold all the valentines I’m going to get!