Why I’m NOT Sad Even Though I’m Single on Valentine’s Day

It seems that everyone thinks I should be sad on Valentine’s Day, as if it’s a natural state for a single woman. My email box has been filled, not only with reminders to buy a gift or to book a table for this eventful day (I’m sure that yours have been too). No, there’s more. These are the subject lines I’ve been bombarded with over the past few weeks:

  • Sick of Valentine’s Day? Here’s How to Get Even with Cupid
  • No Valentine? Find The Right Man Now
  • Don’t miss NYC’s LARGEST Anti-Valentine Singles Party…15 years running!
  • My Best Valentine’s Offer Yet – A Lifetime of Love
  • Oh no! Lamenting on Valentine’s Day
  • How I’ve Helped Women Find Real Love After 50

You might be thinking that I’m on the wrong email lists. And you’re right. Yet the question remains, why does everyone assume that single people are pitifully sad because it’s Valentine’s Day? Like we’re destined to put on our gray sweatpants, throw our hair into a messy ponytail, grab a pint of ice cream and a box of tissue and sit in the corner until we rock ourselves to sleep. Why ARE some single people sad sacks on Valentine’s Day? I’m surprised at the number of singles who spend the day feeling sorry for themselves (maybe that’s why people assume it’s all of us), or worse, angry.

When the bouquets begin to show up at work on Valentine’s Day and everyone huddles around oooing and aahing. “Four for you, Glen Coco! You go Glen Coco!”* Do I feel something? Of course! Despite my mother’s argument that black women don’t like flowers (her thought, if you’ve got $75 to spend, don’t send something that dies) — I LOVE flowers. They’re beautiful. They smell great, what’s not to love?

Yet, as you’re giggling and clipping those long stems, walking around a bit more than you really need to, I’m thinking about the time you told me the sender, your beloved, ate your last Jenny Craig cheesecake — the dessert you’d been thinking about all day as you ate your cardboard, flavorless food — and any longing to be in your place wisps away faster than a $200 size 38 Louboutin platform heels at the Barney’s Sample Sale (in it’s last year for women, quelle horror!).

There’s not one married woman whose life I’d rather have than my own. Despite my extreme fandom, NOT even Beyonce. I could have traded with her for a good long while – smart, uber talented, beautiful. Her voice is a little like Lurch’s sister trying to sound sexy, but I figured I could pay someone to correct that. But then, she got a ring on it and any desire I had to be Beyonce abruptly ended. Can you imagine rolling over in your bed and seeing Jay-Z sharing your pillow? It’d be like waking up to a camel. And beyond that, given his past, I’d be scared to know what skeletons are stuffed in his closet and would fear whether I’d ever be joining them if we disagreed. Plus he seems mopey. So, no, not even Beyonce.

Isn’t the point of Valentine’s Day to acknowledge your love for people? That love can be from people all around you. I want to see and feel — and most importantly recognize — that affection all the time – all year long. PLUS, it includes love for yourself. To me that means IF you’re going to stay in, put on your favorite pretty lounging items (seriously ladies, I can’t with the sweats. Where are you even finding those schlubby things?), order in your favorite food, pop open your favorite bottle of wine or mix up your favorite cocktail and watch your favorite show or read your favorite book. Sounds like a better plan to me. So thank you very much, but I’m not going to spend Valentine’s Day at an anti-Valentine’s Day Party or figuring out how that woman can find me love after 50.

I’ll be at LINCOLN CENTER at New York Fashion Week. That’s right, I’m in the tents (or the stage, really), baby!!!! Loving fashion all these years has finally paid off! I will be feeling love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient  consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love.** And it’s hard to imagine the relationship getting any better. xoxo

*Mean Girls reference, of course.

**Sex and the City, final episode.

Straight men, I put the footnotes in just for you.

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