I promised myself I would refrain from blogging about anything too personal. I enjoy reading blogs that share too much information – I’m nosy – but these posts always make me think, “Man, doesn’t that person know that everyone can see the internet?”
But here I am, writing my first real post on Valentine’s Day, the national holiday for too much information. Thanks to Facebook, I know what a high-school friend’s college roommate received as a gift today. I met her once, almost six years ago. (I’m probably due for a Facebook-friend audit.)
I don’t have much to overshare – I don’t have a “valentine” this year, unless you count Tom Hanks in Sleepless in Seattle, which I am about to watch for the first time. I’m going to have a glass of wine and sit in my recliner and hang out with Tom – best actor of all time? who can resist his charms? – to celebrate this occasion.
Perhaps you are saying, “But Meghan? What is there to celebrate? Tom Hanks isn’t really in your living room, is he?” (No, he’s not, but that would certainly make for a better story.)
I am celebrating because this is the only Valentine’s Day I can remember that has left me completely unfazed. The earliest V-Day I can recall was sometime during preschool. I got up early to craft an elaborate card out of construction paper for Ryan, the dreamiest guy at Kiddie Kampus. I put it in his cubbyhole, entered the classroom, and immediately regretted my decision. I spent the entire day trying to convince Miss Kim and Miss Bonnie to let me retrieve it before he saw it and rejected me.
Elementary school brought the stress of mandatory cards for everyone – why did Michael G. choose this particular Power Rangers card for me from the four options provided in the box? Then puberty hit, and all bets were off. Over the years, in periods of singledom and coupledom, I have always had at least some degree of angst about Valentine’s Day.
At some point since this time last year, I had an epiphany. This holiday, just like any other day, is only enjoyable if you’re happy. Being in a relationship is not the magic express train to bliss. If you’re in an unhappy relationship, Valentine’s Day is way more unpleasant than if you’re single. Maybe this seems obvious, but I never realized it before. Look, ma, I’m maturing.