Well, it’s the weekend of Valentine’s Day, and typically I would pile into my little car and head up north to Grandpa’s to prevent me from wallowing in single woman misery. Unfortunately, I am several states away from the man who for so many years unknowingly helped me survive the season of sappy sonnets. I have to admit, as I made my preparations to move east, one thing that concerned me the most was this very weekend. Seriously. It has been a long time since I’ve had to face being single on Valentine’s day, and I didn’t know what would I do without my escape or how would I survive the gooey sentimentality all. by. my. self.
I get frustrated by the fact that I let Valentine’s Day affect me. It seems so cliché, but around this time of year, I become one of those lonely single women who is easily irritated by red hearts, cupids and boxes of chocolate. The days and weeks approaching Valentine’s Day are usually worse than the actual day itself. I always ask myself the same question: Why is it such a big deal? Well, as one of my favorite bloggers Auntie Seraphic put it, “Women want to feel loved… [and] on Valentine’s Day, many Single women feel very poignantly their need to feel loved…”
It was that natural need to love and to be loved that kept me going back to Grandpa’s every Valentine’s weekend. The day that celebrates romantic love was much easier to endure when I celebrated the loving relationships that existed in my life, even if they weren’t romantic, instead of pining over the absence of that which my heart desired most. I can’t count how many times Grandpa would look over at me, his eyes shining with tears from laughing so hard, and say “I love you, kiddo!” Not exactly the words I long to hear on Valentine’s Day, but they’re close enough and they sure warmed my heart.
This Valentine’s Day weekend I am determined to celebrate the many loving relationships in my life despite the distance, instead of wallowing or over-indulging in single woman misery. Oh, I’m sure I’ll have a one or two meltdowns before the weekend is over, but those will probably be caused by the fact that I miss Grandpa more than I loathe being single on Valentine’s Day. Who am I kidding? Any meltdowns will more than likely be a combination of those reasons. And afterward, I’ll take a deep breath, dry my tears and bury myself in a pint of mango sorbetto and a glass of Grandpa’s wine (I said I wasn’t going to over-indulge; that doesn’t include a little indulgence…). Sure sounds like a good survival plan to me! I think I’ll go get a head start on the sorbetto and vino…