I’ve never really liked Valentine’s Day. Perhaps it was because I feel like maybe I never got the best candy or character themed card in my handmade Valentine’s mailbox in elementary school? Perhaps it was because I was usually single?
It wasn’t until last year, relatively newly single that I did sort of like it. Maybe it was just a rush of anxiety, but I bought flowers for friends… and I got something for myself. I bought myself an adorable stuffed dog to replace the stuffed bear my ex had given me a couple years before. His name is Clifford*, the dog not the ex.
This year I started early, I watched the Michael Bolton Big Sexy Valentine’s Day Special on Netflix yesterday with my roommate. It was ten kinds of hilarious. Especially because I used to loathe MB.
Today I was given a crap ton of candy**, and gave out a couple gifts. It was a pretty fun day overall.
What I’ve learned is, how I feel about this day is more dependent on me than on being loved*** or part of a couple. So, just like sugary sweet pop star Hailee Steinfeld sings, “I love me!”
*It’s not that Clifford. It’s just an off-brand cheap red floppy stuffed puppy.
**Yes that is a measurement. It’s the amount needed to cause diabetes.
***Obviously being loved is awesome. I know, because I am.