I have been single off and on for nine years. In that time, I have never been in the midst of a relationship when Valentine’s Day rolled around on the calendar.
In part, it’s potentially due to the rule that some men seem to have created, which declares that they must not have a girlfriend between Thanksgiving and February 15 so they can avoid all unnecessary gift giving.
I wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with one of those men anyway.
In part, it’s also due to the fact that I’ve devoted those years primarily to raising my kids solo. I haven’t had the every-other-weekend scenario. I am lucky to have my boys 24/7/365 – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The downside to all those wonderful hours of parenting has been a serious lack of time to be a single woman.
So, my Facebook relationship status remains: single.
I have a great friend who, while she was single, HATED Valentine’s Day with a passion. I’d try to perk her up with a delivery of pansies or a funny card, but being single on the day upon which extravagant gifts and deliveries of balloons, fruit on a stick or singing Cupids in pink, red and white striped tights announce that “somebody loves me” just stinks.
Now, she’s married.
And I’m the single one.
Flowers don’t arrive with my name on them.
The balloon bouquet delivery continues right past my office door.
Honestly, I’m always relieved when the singing Cupid warbles elsewhere.
But the essence of the day pulls at my heart: I want to be loved.
And in my heart I know that I am loved.
By my mother.
But to be chosen as someone’s one and only?
That reality has the power to bring me down. To drag me into a swamp of depressive, ugly thoughts.
But last year, I began to have a change of heart about Valentine’s Day.
I can choose to love me.
With my faults. My failings. My insecurities. My doubts.
And my strengths.
With my gray hairs. My wrinkles.
My blue eyes. And my curves.
With my quirks and my qualms.
I am uniquely, irreplaceably, fabulously ME!
Surrounded by those who love me.
Growing as a person every day.
I am my own Valentine.
And that’s enough.