Valentine’s Day. It’s never been my favorite day of the year. I’ve been known to rail against the soulless commercialization masquerading as a holiday, and to moan about the loneliness of my unloved heart; truth is Valentine’s Day is a masochist’s playground. Hallmark and Hershey’s and TDF aren’t making us miserable; we’re making ourselves miserable.
There’s this Eleanor Roosevelt quote that everyone knows: “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”
So why the fuck have we consented to feeling like shit?
Because we want to. It’s like Valentine’s Day has become a day of self flagellation, purging ourselves of the horrible sin of being single. I think it’s because we live in such a results driven society. If you want to have a boyfriend and you don’t have a boyfriend then obviously you are doing something wrong or being something wrong and Valentine’s Day is like society telling us that we should sit here quietly and think about what we’ve done. Well, fuck that.
I’m in a surprisingly good mood, an almost alarmingly good mood considering it’s Valentine’s Day. Considering that I had to work. Considering that I’m not in love but would like to be. Considering that I am nowhere society says I should be.
Society is just going to have to chill because I’m doing alright. No tears. No ice cream. No Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan movies. No feeling bad about the things I want but do not have. No feeling bad at all.
I day dream a lot. A lot. Like, RIDICULOUSLY a lot. Always have. Even as a wee thing. And I missed many a math lesson thinking about JC Chasez (oh, NSync, my over hormonal 15 yr old self never stood a chance). I’ve been thinking though, if I harnessed half the creative energy I’ve been funneling to embarrassing drivel I would be unstoppable. UN FUCKING STOPABLE. (for some reason feeling empowered makes me want to drop the f bomb all over the place)
Valentine’s Day. I went to work. I came home and watched Battlestar Galactica (best. episode. ever.) and Dollhouse (just when I decided to start tapering my tv viewing joss whedon had to come back to the airwaves- wait, it’s all digital now, back to the fiber optics?) I IMed and texted and talked on the phone with friends near and far. I sat in bed blogging and listening to much too much Mraz. Singing sometimes, smiling often. And now I think I’ll dance through the carpet in my bare feet.
Maybe I’ll find the love I want on the way to finding me, but for now, I have all the love I need.