It’s February 14 and the first Valentine’s Day since my husband moved out. I have repeated the mantra, “I don’t care about this stupid holiday, I don’t care about this stupid holiday, I don’t care about this stupid holiday …” for several weeks, ever since the advertising blitz began in earnest and I really believed what I was chanting. So why do I feel like crap today?
I have done my best to ignore the whole thing, but still, this holiday has seeped into my conscious brain and made me feel like a total loser. And in my mind’s eye, every Valentine’s I have spent alone parades in front of me, marching to the tune of “One is the Loneliest Number” and kicking up their heels as if to say, “You’ll always be alone like this…”
Really, the most pitiful part of this whole thing is that I am getting depressed about a manmade holiday which, to be quite honest, I never cared about all that much. I’ve always resented the fact that florists, card and candy companies have the audacity to name February 14th as the ultimate day for romance.
But the truth is that despite my best intentions, this damn holiday is making me feel lonely, even though the thought of committing to more than dinner and a movie with someone new scares the hell out of me. Plus, I really don’t want to be with a man right now. I feel independent and focused and happy for the first time in years and I certainly have no desire to reunite with the man who ruined my life.
Tomorrow, all the good candy in the fancy boxes will be half-off and perhaps, if I still feel this blue, I’ll buy a heart shaped box and dedicate my undying love and adoration to myself. After all, there’s nothing like chocolate to chase the blues away.