I’ve always been single.
Always.
And I’m not single because I’ve turned down a lot of offers, or any. There have been none. I’ve dated a couple of people for a couple of weeks, but that’s it. My offers have been turned down and there have been no offers forthcoming. So, I’m really, really single.
Needless to say, Valentine’s Day has been a bit sticky for me over the years.
I spent years subscribing to the Rom-Com driven desperation around the holiday. It seemed there were only two choices on offer. There was either the fantasy that the perfect one will reveal themselves in a chocolate/roses/jewelry/twinkly-lights driven grand gesture on Valentine’s Day and happily-ever-after will commence on the 15th. Or there was the culmination of the Harry-met-Sallyesque “friendship” where “The ONE” finally sees that you’ve been there all along and steps up in an above referenced grand gestures leading to the afore mentioned 15th and etc.
When those are the only two options and neither of those things ever happens, Valentine’s Day can take on an unflattering patina. For years I regarded the day with trepidation, disdain and secret hope.
Valentines: The Day to remember you’ve been forgotten, again.
Pretty ugly. And yet, it’s unavoidable. One year I tried to embrace the holiday. I saved the envelopes of everyone who sent me a Christmas card. I went to the card store and bought an equal number of fun and lovely Valentine’s Day cards and sent them to all those on my Christmas card list. I figured, “How great to take a day to express the love I do feel for the people in my life.” I had not taken into account that I’m not the only person with Valentine’s issues.
The reactions to my cards were all over the map. Those who were in relationships totally took them the wrong way, occasioning a number of awkward, earnest and totally uncomfortable “I don’t feel that way” conversations. The single recipients either got the wrong idea and went out of their way to make their lack of interest clear or never spoke to me again.
I gave up on the cards and returned to the trepidation/disdain/secret longing thing – messy but private.
Then, one January it occurred to me. It was Chinese New Year and I hadn’t been invited to a single party. I didn’t care. I’m not Chinese and I’m not that crazy about plain old new year’s day. I certainly wasn’t concerned about not being included in this second one. I also hadn’t gotten any Hanukah presents again that year and, not being Jewish, I wasn’t bothered. I had not been invited to break the fast at a single Ramadan Iftar feast or shoot craps on Diwali or share the-surf-and-turf-for-two-Valentine’s-special with anyone.
I was free.
Valentine’s is a holiday for people in relationships. I’m not, so it means no more to me than any on a calendar stuffed with holidays of which I am blissfully unaware. I don’t have to deal with Valentine’s expectations or performance anxiety or any of the other aspects of a day that focuses so much attention on one area of one’s personal life. It’s just, in my case, Monday.
Perhaps one day I will not be single (stop laughing, it could happen). Until then, Valentine’s Day is something I don’t have to worry about any more than I have to learn Bar Mitzvah prayers. I’m free today to go about my regular Monday activities.
So, I wish good luck to those friends in relationships out there and, in the spirit of Monday, I wish the rest of us a very Happy Unvalentine’s Day
Eric Shaw Quinn 