This Valentine’s Day was a weird one. Usually, I’m in one particular mood. I either love all the gush and mush, or I want to wear black all day (convenient, as black makes up the majority of my wardrobe) and ignore all of it. There is seldom any in-between to it.
But this year was different. I was all over the place all week long. It was exhausting.
One minute, I would get all teary over a sweet thing that a friend did for a beloved one, and the next minute, I was cackling over a friend’s “No one really likes your squishy heart vomit; we’re all lying to you” post.
I told residents “We love you every day.”
I responded to the snorty quip, “Bitter much?” with “Um…yeah. Unashamed and card-carrying, actually. Go ahead. Share your naive, uninformed commentary on that. I dare you.” [She declined to share. I have smart friends.]
I loved myself with three of my favorite meals on Saturday – biscuits and gravy (vegan, because love means not having to take a pill) for breakfast, poached eggs and hash browns for lunch, and risotto (with Parmesan…and a pill…because some things are worth it) and roasted Brussels sprouts for dinner.
I mused about how long it would take someone to find my dead body if I died from a heart attack (and I would die, because there would be no one with me to call 911 while it was happening, much less to unlock the door and let them in when they arrived. I’m pretty much doomed.) and worked myself up into a nice, respectable panic attack, which kind of feels like a heart attack. Well played, Universe. You asshole.
I barely managed not to live-tweet Chocolat. I sort of regret not live-tweeting it. I love that movie.
I made this list of awesome things I do as a single person living alone that would probably change if I had a boyfriend or a husband or a roommate:
- Making my bed with the flat sheet on the bottom so that I can sleep curled up inside the fitted sheet like it’s a cocoon
- My Friday night ritual of staying home and resting in solitude with a TV marathon or reading binge or a big batch of whatever-I-damn-well-please
- Eating popcorn dipped in goat cheese and calling it dinner
- Planning my “Family? Nope – just me and the Christmas mice” card (my inspiration is hilarious, and I wish her buckets of love and happiness, whatever that looks like for her. People this funny deserve a willing and enthusiastic audience.)
- Coming home and EVERYTHING BEING EXACTLY WHERE I LEFT IT. It’s like Christmas every day.
- Having all the risotto to myself (this might remain a thing even if I do meet a fella. He’s grown. He can make his own risotto.)
So my Valentine’s Week was emotionally chaotic. Just like my love life. I guess that’s appropriate.
M. Suzanne Terry 
I’ve been married for eight years now. There are certain things about singlehood that I miss with such intensity, I swear, it almost feels like infidelity. One of my favorites? Coming home to my studio apartment, flopping down in the middle of the floor with a magazine, and eating a bowl of lime-flavored Tostitos for dinner (the shame!!!). Your popcorn-dipped-in-goat-cheese sounds so much more sophisticated. 😉
It does feel a little fancy. 🙂
If the single status ever changes, I’m really going to miss that fitted sheet thing. It’s so odd, yet so cozy. We might have to buy two so he can have his own. He’ll want to experience that.
I sometimes put that grated parmesan from a jar on my popcorn… goat cheese would be a great upgrade!!
Ooh, Parmesan popcorn. Also delicious. And if you catch it when the popcorn is warm, it sticks better.