Red on the Head

Today is Valentine's Day. And once again, I celebrate it with just a couple of Dove chocolates from the community pile of holiday candy in the kitchen at the office. I sigh heavily after re-reading that last sentence. No candy and flowers for me. Just pity chocolate from a coworker.

I had hoped by now that I wouldn't have to celebrate these holidays alone. By "these" I mean Christmas, New Year's and Valentine's. As if dealing with Christmas and then New Year's alone wasn't enough, then us single folks get slapped with Valentine's Day…the national day of remembrance…remember you are alone.

I have joked about this day. I have said if Cupid did shoot me, I'd pull his wings out. I have posted on Facebook that valentines make me poop. I have said that I hope on Feb. 15, Cupid wakes up in the fetal position in a pool of his own vomit. All of this makes me sound so very bitter. I'm not really.

It's just difficult. I don't like being reminded that I'm alone still. Who does? I got slapped in the face with it the other day. Someone told me that she envies me for not having a man to have to take care of. After I removed the dart from my chest and handed it back to her, I reminded her that not having a man to take care of also means I don't have a man to take care of me. The response? "Oh."

Yeah. Oh.

My mother heard this exchange. We later talked about how I am waiting for the right man…not Mr. Right. Not Mr. Right Now. But the right man for me. Even if it takes until I'm 70. My mother said she's glad I'm waiting, since it will save me from a lot of heartache. But what about the heartache of waiting? That's just about as bad, in my humble opinion.

But I believe my heart's too special to hand over to just anyone, so I refuse to give it to some dude just so I don't have to order for one when I call out for Chinese. I intend to wait for God's best, no matter how many Valentine's days I have to go through alone.

So…stupid Cupid…stop pickin' on me. I'll call you when I need you.