One of my most favorite blogs to write is the somewhat annual February 14 S.A.D. post – that’s right; Singles Awareness Day. For better or for worse, for most of my adult life, it’s a holiday I have embraced and surprise surprise celebrated to the max. I have a few fond memories of boyfriends who either did something special or whose lack of effort created a great story for later (we live for the content). However, like most of the best parts of my life, SAD events have generally been about celebrating the loves of my life – myself and my fantastic girlfriends.
Some years, of course, I am not so secure and out of effs to give as I am at the moment. Some years, to quote my 2009 self, “I write some brave-little-toaster-that-could blog about how I am ‘unaffected’ by the Hallmark-endorsed charade of love that is February 14. I boldly declare how I may be alone but I am not lonely, that I would rather dress in black, drink red wine, man-bash and go out dancing with my other single girlfriends, that I’m happy I’m not involved in the forced romantic sentiments and consumerist facade.” (2009 Rachel! Badass!)
It might be turning 40 and just feeling the general instability of the world but the delightful security of knowing myself and thinking she’s pretty great that makes me scoff at caring about the holiday. It might be a hundred started and stalled and stopped conversations in Hong Kong, California, and now Guatemala on the various dating apps that make me think that men today don’t know what they want and/or how to get it. It might be last year’s job upheaval and general distrust of men due to personal and workplace related trauma that makes it hard to imagine wanting one of the opposite sex to intimately share space with me.
That being said . . . I am still me. So . . . of course, I’m still always trying to fall in love with every guy I meet, inventing our futures together based on approximately five seconds of interaction on Bumble or Tinder or even, old-fashioned as I am, in real life. I am, of course, binging every day on my favorite February food group, which is conversation heart candy (currently feeling a little shaky from all the sugar content) even though I bought all these bags in the States over Christmas to bring back for my Guatemalan students to try. Perhaps I am wearing my cheesy heart-themed cardigan to muster up some good juju and trying to binge on chocolate as much as possible, since I’ve decided to give it up for Lent (but thank my Christian God I’m not Catholic, so I can drop out anytime I want, I think those are the rules).
In the past, I’ve had different kinds of celebrations – pity parties of one or many, hearts-on-sleeves parties where we decorated with abandon and talked about the power of agape and platonic and erotic love, and girls’ nights in and out. I’ve ignored it, I’ve karaoked too loud to think about it, I’ve written bad poetry, I’ve hiked, I’ve gone on road trips, I’ve had movie marathons of romantic classics.
A few years ago, I would have looked at being forty and single as some kind of personal failure. But I was measuring by out-dated priorities and perspectives that don’t align with my life or heart’s desires. Now, I look at myself in the mirror as I put in as little or as much effort as I want for anything from work to a night out, and I say “yes” or “no” to anything and everything because I feel like it, without consulting anyone else, or I curl up around a book in bed at night while balancing a bowl of snacks, mouthguard ready to pop in when it’s time to go to sleep, and I think to myself – “he’d have to be so awesome to make it in here with me.”
I’ve statistically avoided my first and second divorces, and children who would have to live through that. I’m settled in my career, I’m well-traveled, I’ve become financially savvy, and all-over independent. I’ve taken care of myself, and have had incredible experiences, and have the greatest treasure trove of friends and family and an intimate knowledge of myself that was able to be built in the years that a woman is “supposed” to be in a relationship. It’s SO GOOD.
But I don’t see it celebrated enough. I’m asked why I’m still single. All. The. Time.
But there is no winning – if I was dating, it would be “when are you getting married” and if married “when are you having kids” and if with one kid “when are you having another” and it goes on and on.
This year, my challenge to myself and anyone else who needs it is this – don’t look at social media to measure the value of the love that is present in your life. Real love shows up when things are shitty, when things are boring, 365 days out of the year and not because Hallmark or See’s Candy sponsored it (that being said, save me some scotchmallows!).
Real love is small things that say someone knows you and wants to bring a smile to your face. And I submit that some of the biggest loves of your life that you should be paying the most attention to on this day are your OGs – Mom, Dad, Grandma, Aunties, siblings, best friends, etc. Don’t limit yourself to thinking this is a romantic love kind of holiday. How beautiful would our world be if we took more time to celebrate the different kinds of love in our lives?
For myself, I’ve done some dermablading and gua sha for that sexy “S.A.D. but on the prowl” glow you’ll all be wondering about in my upcoming shameless instagram selfies this weekend. I’ve long stopped considering any kind of caloric content in my solids or liquids, mostly focusing on the idea that I should eat red and pink things. For me, if it feels good to me, if it brings joy to my friends, I will do it, as long as it brings no harm.
I invite you all to engage in the same kind of love-making – find what brings joy, colour, excitement, fascination, intrigue, and appreciation to your life and your loved ones, no matter what your status is. I look forward to hearing how you glow. Cheers. <3
Sunglasses Always Fit 
tell me what you think bout this!