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I've been watching the advent of St Valentine's Day - the red and white balloons at the co-op, the scarlet hearts in shop windows, the dogdy lingerie displays - with quiet contentment. This is a wonderful time of year to be single - no expensive presents to buy, no vainly trying to ignore the cracks in a crumbling relationship, no pressure to have a perfect night, no guilt.
It's rather odd to feel so detached from something so ubiquitous. I always rather liked the thought of taking myself out for a nice meal on Valentine's night, happily sitting at my table for one with a favourite book. Or of booking a table for ten with some good friends. Maybe one day I'll have the nerve - and the spare cash - to carry it off.
I did do a little celebrating, though, courtesy of an on-line lingerie company that was offering 10% off and free shipping during February. I now have several pairs of my favourite socks. :)
And now I'm hoping that some of those yummy boxes of chocolate that have been thronging the supermarket shelves might go on sale in the next week. Yay for Valentines Day!
Somehow, Valentine's Day always seems to fall either right at the start or right at the end of my relationships, so on those rare years that I've been involved with someone I've never really known what was the appropriate way of marking it. Much like imagining being married, in a way - I have known love, and I would like to know it again, but I also love living on my own and I can't imagine how I'd actually mesh with someone without losing my own sense of self. The idea of being single for the rest of my life, though, is... well, sometimes very appealing, actually, but at other times I feel I'm missing out on something deep and wonderful.
The trouble with Valentines Day is not the commercialism (in our society that accompanies everything, and we can choose to abstain), but the way it reinforces the idea that love equates to coupledom, and eroticism equates to sex [between more than one person]. Which isn't to diss loving couples, not at all - but there is so much more; that awesome feeling of unity as the earth rolls forward to meet the dawning sun, the kiss of waves against bare skin on warm sand, the joyous song of a soaring lark, the electric charge of a thunderstorm, the grace of a friend's fingers on a piano keyboard, the throaty purr of a snuggling cat, the laughter of friends dancing when who cares what anyone looks like because you are loved.
And that, as we all know, is magic.
This online community is the only place I have to celebrate Valentines Day today, and I've loved reading everyone's messages, the communal celebration. Our method of reaching out may be virtual, but the reaching out is not. So to all of you who care enough to read this, whether you're choosing to celebrate or abstain tonight, may you drink deeply of love and life and eros in all her forms.
Yay for Valentines Day, indeed, but more importantly, yay for us. :)
It's rather odd to feel so detached from something so ubiquitous. I always rather liked the thought of taking myself out for a nice meal on Valentine's night, happily sitting at my table for one with a favourite book. Or of booking a table for ten with some good friends. Maybe one day I'll have the nerve - and the spare cash - to carry it off.
I did do a little celebrating, though, courtesy of an on-line lingerie company that was offering 10% off and free shipping during February. I now have several pairs of my favourite socks. :)
And now I'm hoping that some of those yummy boxes of chocolate that have been thronging the supermarket shelves might go on sale in the next week. Yay for Valentines Day!
Somehow, Valentine's Day always seems to fall either right at the start or right at the end of my relationships, so on those rare years that I've been involved with someone I've never really known what was the appropriate way of marking it. Much like imagining being married, in a way - I have known love, and I would like to know it again, but I also love living on my own and I can't imagine how I'd actually mesh with someone without losing my own sense of self. The idea of being single for the rest of my life, though, is... well, sometimes very appealing, actually, but at other times I feel I'm missing out on something deep and wonderful.
The trouble with Valentines Day is not the commercialism (in our society that accompanies everything, and we can choose to abstain), but the way it reinforces the idea that love equates to coupledom, and eroticism equates to sex [between more than one person]. Which isn't to diss loving couples, not at all - but there is so much more; that awesome feeling of unity as the earth rolls forward to meet the dawning sun, the kiss of waves against bare skin on warm sand, the joyous song of a soaring lark, the electric charge of a thunderstorm, the grace of a friend's fingers on a piano keyboard, the throaty purr of a snuggling cat, the laughter of friends dancing when who cares what anyone looks like because you are loved.
And that, as we all know, is magic.
This online community is the only place I have to celebrate Valentines Day today, and I've loved reading everyone's messages, the communal celebration. Our method of reaching out may be virtual, but the reaching out is not. So to all of you who care enough to read this, whether you're choosing to celebrate or abstain tonight, may you drink deeply of love and life and eros in all her forms.
Yay for Valentines Day, indeed, but more importantly, yay for us. :)
