by: @ohthatmelissa

My Goodness. Who in the hell invented this god-forsaken holiday? Yes, a hallmark in American folklore, but man oh man does it give a girl the blues! A single, self-sufficient Manhattan gal needs not a holiday where she is reminded of the solitude of her very well-being, but yet a calendar week set aside to celebrate the many benefits of being single! Right?

This entire day has been set aside for the menacing cupid’s amalgamation of happy couples. I was watching the news and if it wasn’t already corny enough, the newscasters were exchanging gifts in between reporting murders and traffic. Who even celebrates this holiday? I thought to myself, guiltily longing for a heart-shaped box of assorted bite-sized chocolates to nibble… Time to get out of my apartment.

Bad idea! If the hum of conversation hearts and turtle doves outside of my window wasn’t intolerable enough, the streets of New York City were. It appears the love bug bit all of Manhattan. It’s as though I’d been transported into an old film where people sing every sentence and trollop around telephone poles. Forcing myself to forget about it, I headed to Starbucks for my usual coffee and fat-free banana thingy.

Oh glory, glory Hallelujah! Starbucks offers me a Valentine’s Day latte and my breakfast on doily lace hearts! I’m about to binge eat 10 of those cupcakes with hot pink sprinkles and then cry. I can’t even get my usual without being reminded of the most moronic of all days on the planet? Suddenly I get a text message: “Happy V-day!” It’s from my non-boyfriend, whom I just recently had a real first date with, even though we have been seeing each other since (if I can remember) before I can remember. I found myself smiling. Aloud. Which means I cannot even hold it in when I am ordering my coffee, I’m just standing there- beaming loudly. Why was I so smitten, so affected by this stupid text message? I’m feeling vulnerable, and well, dramatic. I mean,  have I really been bitten by this bug? Struck by the malevolent midget cupid? Was I standing on the same sidewalk as Saint Valentine? I’m in the east village for Chrissake.

Cut to a Powder Puff Girls dream sequence where I am the head pilot, flying a solo diva jet, girl power! (Seriously, who am I kidding. I hate flying.) By flying, I mean daydreaming of all the wonderful things that validate being a single girl in this city. If there were 8 million people in this refuge then there must only be about 12 happy relationships, I convinced myself as I took hoggish bite of my apple… okay, cupcake.

I am fine! I am more than fine I am fantastic! I thought to myself as I subconsciously scrolled over my ex-boyfriend’s Facebook page to see if well, he was still single and un-celebrating today like me. Obnoxiously blasting “Single Ladies”… If you liked it then you should of put a ring on it… as I stare at the ring around my toilet bowl. Gross!

Anyway-

As the day went on, it only got more confusing. All of the usual questions arose like, Why am I single? How come I don’t have dozens (yes dozens plural) of red roses at my door? One might drive herself crazy if she didn’t have the sweet reason and nerve that I have harvested in the 4 years I have spent stranded here in Manhattan. One might also feel shipwrecked on an island filled with tacky red hearts, stuffed cuddlies and those fake single roses made to look and smell real.

I guess I am just single. Right? What a terrible word! I looked up the word “single” and these were the next words to follow:

Solitary= (not the game I want to play)
On its own= (“its” not even human)
Lone = (Lone Ranger)
Sole= (of my shoe to kick myself)
One= (Is the loneliest number… you get it)

Instead of “single” let’s call it: FREE! Or- in this economy, Taking applications!

As the day dragged along, I started to frown a little bit. I even re-read that dumb “text message” from my boytoy for comfort a few times. I hung my sorry little head and cursed out happy couples on the street. I was so miserable even my vagina was depressed. I mean, it had been forever since I last had a real boyfriend, and in all reality- until he says, “I love you” you are a free agent.  One thing I have learned by 2010 is this:

Even when they do mutter those three little words “I love you,” in New York City that’s equivalent to saying these three little words “One more round.” It true! The one and only unconditional love a man (in this city) can feel is for the burn of his whiskey and the pull of his cigar and even that sounds a bit romantic.

I got to thinking about all of the meaningless dates I had been on in the past few years. It was a pu pu platter of non-potentials and a charcuterie of uncured little slivers of relationships. I had the young rockstars and the even the old ones. The rich brat with everything to say and nothing you want to hear, and the poor boys who’ll say all the right things including- asking you for their cab fare. I had investment bankers who only wanted stock in my panties and lawyers who could argue their way into them. I had some tall, some more handsome than others and some dead sexy. I had the perfect guy who got away, and last but not least the amant passionné Chef who indeed, had the last bite. All that is left to do is applaud myself for all of the hard-luck lessons (regrets) I earned in the meantime. I mean, I am an actress (not to mention a Leo), so yes, I applaud myself.

I am single, and in spite of the BS I was feeling on this very “V-Day,” I was reluctant to allow myself to be literally upset. I guess that in all retrospect, I was forced to be aware of my relationship status. Ahhh! Imagine a world without status updates! Before today I had not really given it much thought. I was not only single, but I was free from expectation. I was the sole (there goes that damn word again) owner of my heart and I decided where and when it was needed. That felt somewhat nice. I take that back, to be single this year felt great.

So to all of my single peeps, I give you this on relationships:

“There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familiar, and those that bring up lots of questions. There are those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started, and those that bring you back. However, the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you, that you love? Well, that’s just fabulous.”

And if that’s crap, I leave you with this-

Have a horrible Valentine’s Day, but a fabulous rest of the year!