I spent Valentine’s Day alone. I wanted to.
The honest truth is that I went most of the day forgetting it was even February 14th. The day was mine and I spent most of it in book stores. I didn’t really even consider the significance of it until I went and bought myself a steak at the local grocer and the invasive cashier asked “cooking your valentine a dinner tonight?” Realizing what the situation looked like, I smiled and answered “yes.” Of course, she didn’t know what I really meant, and I didn’t expect her to. So, with love on my mind, I took some time to think about loneliness and what it means to be alone.
Now, in a rare instance of unabashed honesty, let me open up to you a little and share an intimate secret about me that I think will help illustrate my point. I wish I could say I’ve never told someone that I love them; it would make my life seem less messy. It’s not a word I like to throw around carelessly. It carries a very significant weight to it. Checking through my laundry list of insignificant others I’d be lying if I said I never told any of them that I loved them. Within context and relative to each given situation and understanding, I did love them, or at least some part of them. Now, before you assume I’m referring to certain tangible (i.e. jiggly) qualities, let me assure you that while I am only human, I do operate on levels beyond the superficial. What I’m saying is that each woman has a unique, individual part of her that makes her beautiful. Sometimes it’s a smile, a laugh, a brush of the hair that’s seductive in its carelessness; other times it’s an idea, a secret, or knowing just how dangerous she really is. These beautiful parts vary as widely as each woman does. So when I say that I love women, and that they’re all beautiful, or have the capacity to be beautiful, it’s this singular and unquantifiable quality that I’m talking about. And when I told those girls that I loved them, what I really wanted was for them to love themselves and to find that part of them that was beautiful.
A lot of people ask me if I believe in love, while I could write chapters about that idea alone I’ll simply answer “yes” on this occasion. Yes, because I have to believe in love. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen it, or felt it or if I ever will feel it, but I have to believe that it’s out there somewhere. What I do know about love though is that it’s impossible to love someone who doesn’t love themselves. That’s what my day-after-Valentine’s message is really about. I sat alone last night, eating a perfectly seasoned steak I prepared myself, but I wasn’t lonely. Despite my self-destructive tendencies and tendency towards self-loathing, I enjoy who I am, and so when I spend nights alone I don’t pine for a lover or scoff bitterly at happy couples. There’s a whole year before the next Valentine’s day and I think this year, instead of searching for meaning in someone else and finding existence in co-dependence, it’s time to follow the old adage and “know thyself.” You might just like what you discover, and then you can show that off at your younger sister’s wedding.
