No matter how “valentines” choose to celebrate, they do so to announce to everyone “you see me?! I’m in love with this person, and isn’t that great?!” And for them, it is. What is better than being in love? Almost next to nothing. At the moment, the only thing I could imagine better than a day about love would be a day about sex. Lovers would exchange chocolate formed penises and vaginas. Instead of the customary bouquet of roses, a man would offer his companion a box of condoms, or perhaps a new diaphragm.
Unfortunately, for those who are lacking in the love department, the day is spent doing somewhat less stimulating activities. People who are alone on valentines day may take three routes. The first is to be bitter, to reject love and those who are consumed in it. While this may be the most anti-social route a person can take, it has the potential of being the most entertaining. The second is to be happy for those who are in love, in the hope that one day you can be a part of their elitist group. This is obviously the most optimistic (or most likely to be described as ‘bullshit’) and therefore, the most likely to induce vomiting. The third option is to ignore the day completely. Keep the radio turned off, don’t watch television. Possibly call into work and spend the day in bed.
As a person who is without love this year, I would have to say I’m caught in the middle of all three options. I truly have no desire to witness any marriage proposals, car door openings, flower giving, smooching or admiration of any kind. I am genuinely happy for those people in my life who do have love (which the number seems to be steadily increasing), or at least those who have some idea of where they can find it. Lastly, nothing would make me happier than to spend the day in my pajamas in bed, sleeping away the memories of any day which celebrates what I so obviously do not have.
I’m not angry that I haven’t found love, I’m sad that love hasn’t found me. It has been my experience that when you look for love, it eludes you. Therefore you must play hard-to-get and make love come to you. Let me speak for myself when I say that no one plays hard-to-get better than I. So where is my love? Has it forgotten about me? I know I’ve moved a lot in the past four years, but couldn’t it have just asked for my new address? Did I miss it? Was it right in front of me? There is a part of me that refuses to think in such dramatic terms, but there is also a part that takes it very seriously.
I know that one day I will fall in love again, and it will be amazing. Until then, I suppose I’ll stand around, and smell the roses.