Alright, all you single ladies. I'm going to need you to put your hands down for just a minute.
Take one hand and put it around your favorite pint of the tastiest hippies in Vermont, while your free hand tunes your iPOD to the national anthem of the People's Republic of Single.
That's right. It's Saint Valentine's Day.
I have had 23 years to perfect the art of being a single person on February 14th. I've loathed it, been disgusted by it, and ignored it completely. In some of my finest moments, I've renamed it "vomit day." Year-after-year, I would dread its coming, and year-after-bloody-year it would arrive with its over-priced flowers and hideous winged baby.
This year, I decided not to let the day get the best of me. I don't need a ring or a different Facebook status to love and appreciate the fact that I. am. loved.
This February 14 I...
...finished the final 150 pages of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, which is quite the accomplishment if you ask me. Never mind the fact that millions of 5th graders have read these books, eight hundred pages is MASSIVE.
...cleaned the shack from top to bottom.
...danced barefoot to Love Song For No One. [Some traditions are too fun to abandon.]
...got dressed up [which really made me wonder what, exactly, all of you y-chromosomed fools are looking for] and went to the symphony with my grandparents and one of my favorite Genevans.
It was a good day. I'm glad I finally allowed myself to enjoy it. I hope you did, too.
I love you!
Oh, and you can go ahead and put those hands back up. Woah oh ohhh...