Valentine's Orphans

After an extended radio silence, I got an email out of the blue yesterday from the girl to whom I'd lent my Game of Thrones books all those many months ago.  She'd found them in her house during some cleaning and was offering to deliver them to my doorstep.  As soon as possible.  And while I was at work.  The request made me a bit uncomfortable, as I wasn't sure what to make of it.  Did she hate my guts?  Or was this just the routine settling of accounts?  Given the uncertainty, I declined her offer, suggesting instead to meet somewhere in the middle to retrieve them.  Well, as you know, a woman is not to be denied, so when I returned home today I found the books on my doorstep.   That they were nestled snuggly in a basket reminded me of babies being left on the doorstep of the orphanage--the unwanted cast aways of a failed relationship.  Although I'd purchased them, I don't really consider them mine at this point since they've been out of my possession for longer than I'd initially had them.  On top of which I have a new set of books from the Apothecary.  But of course, the girl didn't consider them hers either, so they were returned to their "biological" parent.

Anyway, not wanting the little orphan books to be left out in the cold, I picked them up, brought them inside, and then spent the better part of the evening trying to extract the meaning out of their unexpected delivery.  That the girl offered to return them to me herself instead of putting them in the mail suggests things are civil between the two of us.  As does the fact that she didn't just throw them out or burn them into oblivion.  Although, her lack of interest in meeting face-to-face suggests otherwise.  But, the fact that she took the time to put them in a basket suggests otherwise still.  On the other hand, maybe all the "nice" gestures are somehow a passive-aggressive way to show her disdain for me.  But I thought we parted ways mutually way back when last July.  Ah!

Realizing I could stay up all night concocting different theories for this most-likely innocuous return of personal property, I decided to just leave it be.  Especially since ultimately her motivation is irrelevant given that the net result is allowing her to pull an Eternal Sunshine and purge the last remnants of our relationship from her reality.  And that the purge happened so close to Valentine's Day suggests a positive alignment of the stars for her romantically that she didn't want to jeopardize with "old business."  The freedom of closure to a relationship is a priceless thing, and I'm glad she was able to find it just in time for an unencumbered Valentine's Day.  May cupid's arrow strike true for her.

--KM

"I hit the sidewalk, and this is how it starts; caught in a wrinkle when things are fallin' apart."

You Say Valentine's Day, I Say Thursday

And so we approach that time of year again--Valentine's Day.  For some, Valentine's Day is an annoyance, a day of jacked up flower prices and packed restaurants.  For others, it's a special day for romance, a chance to leave the kids with grandma and spend some quality time with the love of your life. And for others still, it's a scathing reminder of their romantic ineptitude, a day to be dreaded.  My thoughts on Valentine's Day have run the gamut.  From the naive and hopeful, "Oh, Valentine! Oh, Valentine! Wherefore art my Valentine?" to the angry and bitter, "Valentine's Day is just another bullshit Hallmark holiday meant to gouge couples and make single people feel like shit."  Today, I think I have a bit more of a balanced perspective to the whole affair--Valentine's Day is a lot like the roulette table: sometimes my number hits, but most of the time I'm walking away empty-handed.

This year, as in most years, the odds of my Romantic Wheel of Destiny landing on "Valentine's Magic" appear remote as ever.  Which at this point I've become accustomed to given the amount of time I've spent "between relationships."  That's not to say I'm ashamed of being single (disappointed, maybe; ashamed, no).  It's just that being single around Valentine's Day seems to get you branded as "sad."  Whether that means "unhappy," "pathetic," or a mixture of both I've never figured out, but it's a label that's completely undeserved.  The other 364 days of the year, there's no stigma attached to being single.  But on Valentine's Day, if you've got no one to call your special someone, it means you're a failure.  And not just a failure at any ol' endeavor, but at that which serves as the core of all humanity--love.  Pretty harsh, no?

Much of this negativity is driven by singles themselves.  I've never had any coupled-up people mock me or otherwise bring attention to my singleness in any negative way.  At least not openly and certainly not close to Valentine's Day.  No, my experience is that for whatever reason the prospect of a February 14th spent alone breeds a plague of fear and envy and anger that spreads uncontrollably through all Singledome.  And as this plague begins to blanket the land in darkness, word spreads quickly that the only way to prevent it from infecting you is to find a Valentine's date.  And so singles scramble frantically in the days leading up to February 14th to ensure they're not left out; that they're not stuck standing like a dummy when the music stops in Valentine's Musical Chairs.  I've even known some who've gone so far as to prolong a failing relationship just to avoid being alone on Valentine's Day.  It's a ruthless enterprise this business of finding your Valentine.

That's not to say I'm Anti-Valentine's Day.  No, sir.  The older I get, the more I see the value of Valentine's Day.  As relationships mature and settle into the routine of the day-to-day, there's nothing wrong with an excuse to turn back the clock to the beginning, if not just for one night, and relive those early moments of courtship and romance.  To the days of awkward first dates, getting caught in the rain, and electric first kisses.  To remember why you fell in love in the first place.  And if a bunch of chocolatiers, restaurants, and florists make a buck in the process?  Good for them.  Plus, when else will elementary school kids get to decorate a brown paper bag and then walk around their class handing out witty cards--I choo-choo-choose you!--to their friends, enemies, and future love interests?  No, the world needs Valentine's Day.

So then where does that leave us singles?  Well, I'm definitely not a proponent of raising the banner of "Singles Awareness Day," which I think is a futile and s.a.d. attempt to steal the spotlight.  No, I think it's important for singles to concede that on February 14th the spotlight narrows its focus to shine most brightly on couples.  No sense getting petty about the darned thing.  But that's not to say we should shut ourselves up on Valentine's Day either.  To the contrary, I think it's paramount that we band together.  For us singles, Valentine's Day really is just another day of the week.  Despite its aura, the power of Valentine's Day to make you feel like shit is just an illusion of roses and heart-shaped boxes of chocolate.  When you pull back the curtain, it's exposed as your familiar friend Thursday.  And if we know anything about Thursday, it's that he wants you to be having a good time; not sitting prisoner in your own home.

So there you go, hopefully some inspiration for my single brethren out there; a little Valentine's Day battle cry for the single set.  If you're holding out hope that you'll find last minute Valentine's Day magic, "Thursday!"  For does not love at first sight require you to be seen?  If you're miserable because you're single, "Thursday!"  For does misery not love company?  If you're just looking for an excuse to get really drunk, "Thursday!"  For have you not earned that right for getting through four-fifths of the week?  Whatever your desire, whatever your motivation, I truly hope that all you single folk are out and about on February 14th.  And, that when you least expect it. . . THUNK!  Cupid's arrow finds its mark.  Hey, a little optimism never hurt anyone, right?

Thursday!

--KM

"Luck be a lady tonight."