I'm 32 and single and yet I don't hate Valentine's Day – here’s why
As the title of this post suggests, I'm 32 years old. And single. (Cue you, feeling sorry for me)
Nowadays, this isn't so uncommon, especially here in New York where I live, a place where everyone is so over-the-top modern and non-conforming. People generally do things a bit later in life now, including marriage and/or having children.
But if this were, say, the 1950s and I was in this situation? I'd probably be looked at as some freakish weirdo and would be ostracized by my community or, even worse, institutionalized.
Either way, 32 is still on the "older side," and most of my friends are married with kids. I'm in a weird situation because I don't look at myself as the unfortunate single friend, mostly because I spent an entire decade of my life, my 20s, in two serious and long-term relationships. The second one ended right before I turned 31, and I am now taking my sweet-ass time getting back in the saddle. I'm learning a lot about myself: how to be alone, how to live alone, how to date, how to have a liberating independence and how to essentially do whatever the hell I want.
Ohmygod doesn't that sound awful?
Exactly. It's not.
For this reason, I won't lock myself in my apartment eating a box of Russell Stover chocolates in bed, crying black mascara tears while watching The Notebook on Feb. 14.
I will never do this.
And I know it's expected of me to be a Bitter Betty on Valentine's Day because I don't have a significant other at the moment, but sorry. I won't do it. I can't.
Why? Because Valentine's Day is nothing. It's a day. A random-ass day in February. One day out of the year where people feel an immense pressure to do something for their boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife because society tells them to. I won't lie to you; I "celebrated" it when I was in my past relationships; we'd go to dinner somewhere and maybe (but not always) I'd get flowers or something. But is that really celebrating? I'd go out to dinner all the time with the person I was dating. That's just a thing you do. It never felt any more special or important or significant on this day. And if I can be honest, it actually felt more annoying and inconvenient. Restaurants were packed, reservations were scarce and prices were jacked up. Meh.
Someone may be reading this and think I'm now bashing something because I'm not a part of it, but that really isn't it at all. I was always like this. I never cared about this holiday, single or not, and never understood why this particular day sent so many women into a frenzy.
If you're single like me, no matter how old you are: 22, 32, 42, doesn't matter... don't let a Hallmark holiday make you feel down and out. I know there are people out there who are single not by choice, so I guess I understand why a day like this may make you feel s*****. You're inevitably going to see people walking around with flowers and couples holding hands all googly-eyed and there will be hearts and cupids and red and pink everywhere. But let it go. Go out and do something fun with your friends and family who are around. You want chocolate? Go buy yourself some chocolate! You want flowers? Steal some flowers that were supposed to be delivered to your coworker or neighbor. I'm kidding... don't do that.
I don't know what I'm going to do on Saturday, Feb. 14. I do have a few single friends, girls and guys, and maybe we'll go out. Maybe I'll stay in. All I can tell you is this: I won't be upset and depressed that day. And neither should you.