heart-shaped holiday

Tomorrow is Obligatory Love Day (or, more traditionally—and less cynically—Valentine’s Day) and, for some unidentifiable reason, I feel compelled to acknowledge it somehow. I have spent every February 14th thus far in a state of non-relationship and have chosen to commemorate this ultimate greeting card holiday by embracing my independent, boyfriend-free existence. Doing this has meant engaging in a series of girl-only outings, attending multiple performances of the Vagina Monologues, and drinking excessive amounts of alcohol in (supposed) celebration of my defiantly single life. Take last year for example, a night on which I watched The Bachelorette (cringe) with friends while sipping too many red martinis, then traipsed off to the nearest hot spot for another round (or five) of cherry-colored cocktails and inebriated dancing, before returning home at 2 a.m., where I awoke three hours later (somehow roused from my alcohol-induced coma) to find myself sandwiched between four sleeping people, inexplicably crammed onto my less-than-adequately-sized full bed. This year, as I navigate this strange space between single and not (still unsure exactly where I fit in), I will take comfort in knowing my unique position affords me the luxury of ignoring the impending (non)holiday altogether and living tomorrow like it is any other Tuesday. Because it is.

(Related confession: I’ll probably still watch The Bachelor (cringe), thankful that it airs tonight (the 13th) and not tomorrow (the actual day of compulsory love-showing), eliminating (or, at least, lessening) its necessary V-day association.)