*Note*: I had this post ready to go on the day itself, but for whatever reason it didn't post.
Valentine's day is such a perfect opportunity for a post, saturated as it is with soppy candy hearts and commercialized expressions of true love. People who have significant others typically plan and scheme and fret over their extra special dates... or they forget altogether and buy some flowers or chocolate from that store down the street that happens to be open today. Those of us without a special someone on this mushiest of holidays sleep late, eat ice cream right out of the carton, and generally do whatever we need to do in order to fight off feelings of lonliness and unworthiness.
You might have noticed that I lumped myself into the second category. Being seemingly doomed to eternal singledom, I am well acquainted with the spectrum of feelings we unattached can experience every February 14th. There are a number of well-worn guests called Lonliness, Despair, and Frustration who tend to visit, and there are infinite ways of handling them. Some years, I go for the approach that such a commercialized holiday has little intrinsic meaning, so it shouldn't matter if I am alone. Other times, I rationalize that being in a relationship is a huge drain on time, energy, and money, so I'm really better off avoiding the whole mess.
This year, my single approach is simply to be. Living in the moment and letting myself experience whatever comes will probably serve me best in the long run, but there is also a sort of comfort in honesty with onesself. Most of this Valentine's day was just another day for me, so I wasn't bothered by its presence. But now in the evening, I feel the weight of all my years alone becoming heavier by one more landmark. One more Valentine's Day can be crossed off the calendar, and I still have not experienced that romantic, magical experience of being in love on this love-centric holiday. There is some hurt in that thought, but this year I acknowledge it instead of pushing it away. The hurt is my clue that, as happy as I am most of the year to be single, part of me wants something different. And maybe if an opportunity comes along, that sting will remind me of the feelings that await next February if I pass it by.
Why should I put stock in the feelings that well up but once a year? After all, I am generally a happy person, and being single has made me strong. The answer is that it's the mystery of this "love" thing that gets to me, because the truth is that I don't have any way to comprehend what I am missing. The obvious answer is to go out and meet someone, but trying to hurry up and fall in love is like trying to fall asleep. It just happens when it happens, and trying to rush the process only makes me frustrated and cranky... and ultimately sleep-deprived.
In my own meandering way, I seem to be reaching out and describing my situation so that others can understand (or empathize, as the case may be). Whichever case is applicable for you, I hope I have given you some insight into what I, as one of many singles, go through each Valentine's Day.
