The L-Word

Valentine’s Day is coming up — don’t everyone get excited at once. In all honesty, though, I do get excited for Valentine’s Day, and not because Valentine’s Day has even gone well for me historically. There was that time in seventh grade when I had the flu but I sent in valentines for all of my friends anyway. When I called my homeroom teacher to ask if anything had been left for me … well, that was a heartbreaker, especially at the emotionally fragile age of 12. And why is it that Valentine’s Day usually portends an approaching break-up when I’m in a relationship? The holiday rubs salt in all of the old love life wounds, eroding fairly stable relationships or serving as a glaring reminder that you are SINGLE. Not just in a lull between casual dating partners, but all-caps, seemingly semi-permanently SINGLE. It only adds insult to injury that down to the last box of Russell Stover, Valentine’s Day seems to amount to nothing less frivolous than candy hearts and cutout cupids.

My point is that in spite of the many good reasons to hate Valentine’s Day — it has rarely brought me much joy, it generally causes a lot of anxiety for everyone, it can feel cheap and superficial and I don’t really like those little Necco candy hearts — Valentine’s Day still reminds me of the possibility of romance, and believing in that possibility is definitely exciting. Perhaps like a big kid continuing to believe in Santa Claus, I put on my red dress and heart-shaped earrings, bake heart-shaped brownies and invite friends over to make valentines for each other because I am hoping for a little romantic magic. Sometimes we do get the valentine we long for, the tiny paper confirmation that we are loved by the people we want to love us, and those times are more likely to happen on Valentine’s Day.

I am all too aware that many haven’t yet received that specific valentine and accompanying affirmation of worth, and, actually, this column is for you. I don’t know if I will succeed, but I want to do my best to share the hope I still have every Valentine’s Day — and every day, really — with all of you who may be starting to lose it. These paltry paragraphs are for the “nice guys” and the “like a sister to me”s and the “just friends.” The people who get up the courage time and time again to express their affection for someone, only to be let down as nicely as possible. There is something particularly painful about being told how great you are — just not great enough to take on a date or bring back to the bedroom. I am also writing for those handsome people who get plenty of invitations for sex, but few for meaningful conversation. All of those “yeah, the sex is great but we don’t have much in common”s. It’s not just about getting valentines — it’s about getting the right valentine, and the longer we go without, the harder hope is to muster.

But these are things you know already. What someone hasn’t told you, maybe, is how much courage you have for staring a history of disappointment in the face and saying, “Next time will be different.” Random sparks become blazing fires more quickly when there has been a drought, and if ever there was a day for fire safety, Valentine’s Day is it. Statistically speaking, and cutesy metaphors aside, every opportunity to be with someone is completely independent of the last ones. Every time you meet someone new, it’s a fresh start. How can you not have hope? More importantly, what other choice do you have? I don’t deny that Valentine’s Day is an obnoxious reminder of the state of our love lives, but it’s also a tribute to new chances, and I would rather risk disappointment to revel in the excitement than give up. Wouldn’t you? Here’s to a happy (and hopeful) Valentine’s Day, Necco hearts and all.