I’m one of you——if it is Valentine’s Day and if you alone and lonely, staring at the computer screen to read what I’m writing now, barely able to coerce the sad feeling into the innermost cubbyhole of your heart, the self pity that’s scratching to well up and the big question: why is that I’m all alone on the most romantic day of the year, again!?
All alone I am for the past 23 years, plus 23 miserable Valentine’s Days. What is wrong with me! I’m not intolerably ugly, if not gorgeous, not temperamentally unbearable, not a cynic keeping love at bay. I’m totally normal, reasonably pretty and sanely passionate….Hey hey hey! What goes wrong with me? I’m not supposed to say things like that. I’m not supposed to be pitying myself like this, even though it is Valentine’s Day. It’s not that all of a sudden I’m thirsty for love, longing for a piece of that sweet chocolate, a bunch of roses. It’s not that an essential epiphany dawns on that a man will make my life complete. It’s only that when reaching a certain age in your life, you learn to play the game of contrast and comparison; you begin to wonder what is it that everybody else around you carries on the shoulder every day yet is still not in your pocket; you begin to question your way of life when the way you define the word “normal”deviates from the way the society does.
Ever since my first romantic vibe began to pulse, I firmly truly believe that there is a person for everybody, a right one, the one, the right one, like a knife and fork, a shoe and shoelaces, a cup and coaster. Any of them being replaced, they’ll survive. But it’s never the same, never the same life. There are times when a guy stands right under your scrutiny. He’s perfection. He’s everything you dream about. He’s the one you think you’re gonna kill yourself if you let him go. But no matter how the chemistry simmers, no matter how you two magnets draw each other and no matter how great the first kiss feels, you know he’s a fake, a phony. For all the “right” things, he isn’t the right one. If you compromise, if you loosen up, if you get lazy for just once, you become another cliché, the one in which so many married couples, after the passion recedes, after the feel ebbs, live separated and unshared lives, remain remotely polite through all the Christmases and birthdays, through all the mishaps and misunderstandings. I hate that. I hate the very thought of it. What’s wrong with holding my own faith? What’s wrong with waiting, waiting for the right one, if you know all these lonely years are finally worth it, if you never doubt his existence, if——though he may be thousands of miles away——I wait for him, willingly and stubbornly.
I don’t know how many times I’ll spend Valentine’s Day by myself, but I’m just content with where I’m now. I’ve spent the happiest moments with myself–with no irony–you’re laughing, hah! Now I still weave my own fantasy tale of my first boyfriend, my first relationship, just like a little girl. Anyway, to all these happy lovebirds now trying to make the most out of this holiday, Happy Valentine’s Day!
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