Me and Valentine’s Day have a history – well a sordid kind of history full of trauma and drama. Since I can remember I’ve always wanted a Valentine Day where I had the perfect day with my special someone. To me that would feel like a hallmark movie. This hallmark movie would include chocolate, flowers, lots of hand holding and kissing in, romantic dinner and a grand romantic gesture from my partner. The gesture would be so thoughtful, it would make me tear up with happiness. Yes, my expectations were high on this day but hey don’t blame me – I grew up on 90s rom coms and Telenovelas. Let’s talk about my history with this day. 

At 14, I was super hyped about this day because I finally had a special someone to celebrate this day with, my first boyfriend, Jude. We went to the Valentine’s Day Dance at the school where we slow danced to the most romantic 90’s songs. Picture Boyz II Men and Mariah Carey playing in the background as I feel myself falling in love. Jude even bought me a rose and unexpectedly gave me this nice sterling silver bracelet and I teared up. I felt like wow, this is so romantic and magical, is this real? Is this too good to be true? Well, ha-ha it was. A week later he broke up with me around my birthday because he realized we were better off as friends. Also, he needed the bracelet back, it has been his mom’s that he had stolen to give it to me. It would be my first taste of drama and trauma surrounding this holiday. 

 In my late teens and early 20s I was always single on Valentine’s Day. Because of that I would get salty as all my partnered coworkers would get flowers delivered to their office or talked about their stupid romantic plans. One day me and my close friend/coworker Mary- said fuck it, we’ll be each other’s valentine. We’ll send flowers to each other and go out to lunch. It was a great Valentine’s Day that year. We had our own kind of Galantine’s before Leslie Knope made it a thing. 

 After that, I was with my co-parent/roommate, and this is what I wrote about that day in 2014:

“Valentine’s Day is a waste of a day for older married couples with kids. I suppose that sounds slightly bitter and biased based on my own experiences. I don’t ever remember my parents celebrating Valentine’s Day and they’re still married. So much importance and consumerism is given to this particular day it makes one wonder -how did we as a society eat up all the hype concerning this particular holiday and regurgitated it with “oh so much love, kindness, flowers, chocolates, cards, etc.” The world would be a much better place if love and kindness was practiced more often. It could be part of the new movement called “love and kindness” awareness and it could be marketed with T shirts, pins, and don’t forget the Bumper Stickers” Somehow I think this already happens with the movement “make America kind again” after the last brutal election. Anything can be marketed and consumable by the masses if it makes them feel good about themselves. And that’s why Valentine’s Day is still such a big deal. People that celebrate “their love” can now prove their awesome love by snapchatting or instagraming that shit. Valentine’s Day is just another symptom of the curse of consumerism. `

I was obviously very bitter and jaded when I wrote this. To be fair to my coparent/ roommate, he did try his best some years to fulfill my unrealistic expectations of the day and well- he couldn’t. I do have to mention that one day-I was pleasantly surprised that he bought me a coach perfume, I mentioned wanting it as a joke. I didn’t think he would get it for me, but he did. 

 In 2018 we opened our marriage and started hooking up/dating dudes. I was also going through a period where my hypersexuality was very intense. I was at a social event drunk, and I got the bright idea that I needed to hook up with someone, anyone that night. So, I met this random dude at the hotel room. I met him from an app, and he had no pictures-and that was for good reason. Ugh, he wasn’t attractive at all, but I was drunk, wanted to have sex, and I was too cute to be alone on Valentine’s Day. Drunk me + hypersexuality +God Complex =no standards for hooking up. Anyways me and this guy have incredibly hot sex and he’s talking dirty. This is all normal except then he starts saying weird things like “I could picture spending my life with you” or “I can see us really falling in love” as he’s ramming me every which way. I don’t want to ruin the mood, so I just figure its weird kink and go with it. I don’t want to ruin the mood and figure, maybe this dude is just lonely or whatever. So, after we have this hot sex, we both go our separate ways. I don’t expect to hear from him.  Well, the next day, he blows up my phone wanting to hook up again and I respond telling him “No, it was a onetime thing”. He responds, “we had good chemistry and I’m falling in love with you”. I responded, “I’m not looking for anything like that”. After that what follows are texts, slut shaming with every name in the book “whore, bitch, slut, while also trying to convince me that according to him “we could be so good together”:” I do call him out on his misogyny, but he doesn’t want to hear and says he doesn’t care and continues to insult me while trying to convince me to see him. I’m confused and think “wow, this happened to me as a consequence of my own actions, maybe I deserve it, Idk”. I do proceed to block him. It could have been a nice memory of hot sex of Valentine’s Day but once again it’s marked by trauma and drama.  Will I ever have a nice Valentine’s Day? I just want to feel loved and be loved on that day? Why is it so hard?

Fast forward to last year, when I was in love with my recent ex, the second Andrew. That year I had all of the ingredients for my hallmark movie like Valentine’s Day, right? We celebrated V-day on Feb.13, the Saturday before it because of my hectic work schedule. It was really close to perfect. There was good food, wine, butterflies in both of our stomachs cause we’re in love, and dancing. He even makes a grand and thoughtful gesture and I’m so touched I’m almost moved to tears. This is my Hallmark real life movie. Fucking finally, right? I’m so happy and I feel so loved, I share that happiness out in the world with a tweet. Now my relationship with the second Andrew is polyamorous so I’m careful that I don’t tag him and make sure his other partner Sharon is not following me on twitter. I don’t want to hurt any feelings. I ‘m just so grateful to feel loved and be loved by this wonderful man, it’s important for me to share it out there in the world.  Among everything crazy and chaotic in my life, I have this perfect memory of love. It’s almost too good to be true right, and it was, a few days later, I hear from him how Sharon’s feelings were hurt by my tweet. I told him about how I made sure that she didn’t see my tweet, but he tells me I’m accountable because my twitter is public. So, to smooth things over, I felt forced apologized for tweeting out my fucking happiness. It was great (insert sarcasm). I remember afterwards feeling this incredible sense of shame and guilt for Sharon’s feelings being hurt by my tweet and at the time I wrote in my journal, “maybe we should break up so she can have him all to herself, I don’t have the time or energy to fight for a man”. I didn’t of course but maybe I was starting to see the cracks in my relationship with the second Andrew. There is a lot more to this story about the second Andrew, but that content will be shared much later this year or next year. I could say that I wish I hadn’t been informed about Sharon’s feelings, but I’ve learned to accept that it happened, and it is what it is. It was just annoying that it was once again another Valentine’s Day followed by drama and trauma. 

This year, I decided to flip the switch and rather than feeling sorry or pity for myself to for

being alone; I’m turning this day which is traumatic into a triumphant one. I have declared it my self love day where I’m my own Valentine. I’ve made it so that the only one that can ruin the day is me. Lol.  My plan is to take the day off and do the following:

1. Wake and exercise.
2. Buy myself flowers.
3. Watch an episode or two of “You” because I need some time with my king (Joe Goldberg).
4. Listen to the Queens on vinyl and write.
5. Drink wine and eat tacos while I watch “Kill Bill ” and other violent movies.  
6. Do all this while I wear my red lingerie and take gratuitous selfies for some sexy self-care later. Wink, wink.  

It looks like I’m finally getting my own romantic movie starring myself after 25 years. Except we won’t call it a Hallmark movie, it’s more of an Indie film. I will post an update on how it all went on next Valentine’s Day.