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How to Cope with Being Cold and Alone on Valentine’s Day

valentine's-day-alone

It’s almost hell on earth Valentine’s Day.  I’ve been made aware of this almost every day since mid-January by my mecca, Walgreens.  I typically escape my cube thrice a week and venture to Walgreens on Powell to snag up a back of Haribo Gold Bears and something random I don’t need, like condoms.  I try and avoid the blood-bath that is the Valentine’s Day aisle but that can be harder than John Travolta at a Scientology convention.  Valentine’s Day has the power to make me feel like Ted Kaczyinski, trapped in a tiny little figurative cabin shrouded in gloom and hopelessness – only instead of bombs I am sending out desperate texts to my exes as I cower in my unmade bed strewn with pillows doused in black mascara tears.

Like most things in life though, attitude has the power to make or break a person and…Jesus H, I sound like a Nike commercial.  This year I refuse to spend the day knee deep in brownie mix, handicapped by Carpal Tunnel Syndrome as a result of sending those aforementioned drunk texts.  I refuse to bury my V-Day bitterness in boxes of greasy Chinese food, ash trays overflowing with half-smoked Parliament Lights and multiple bottles of Two-Buck Chuck as I struggle to avoid texts from my mom suggesting things like, “Al  – why don’t you just become a lesbian, you’re already in San Francisco – just do it!  Poor, poor girl.”  I am going to ignore the fact that in the span of 4 months my 3 best friends and sister found boyfriends and left me on the bench like those sad skewlgirls who don’t get asked to dance.  No, this year is different: I am going to wake up, plaster a big, goofy fucking smile across my head, and face the day as a woman who’s happier than the Kardashians in the front row at the BET awards.

wal!

this is a lovely room of death

I am going to recharge my vibrator system and start thinking positively.  I am going to assure myself that life could be way, way worse.  For example: a few years back I spent Valentine’s Day with a celibate guy I’d been dating who liked to dry-hump.  Like, it was his thing.  All I got for V-Day that year was chafed.  Never underestimate the friction created by a sexually depraved man and brand new J Brand jeans.  I burned learned a lot from that experience.  I discovered how beautiful life can be when I’m not being dry-humped like an unfulfilled rag-doll; and a rag-doll can’t really be unfulfilled because it’s an inanimate object and OH MY GOD THAT’S NOT THE POINT.  So, yeah – V-day will be a good day because god damnit, I won’t be getting dry-humped.  Silver linings aplenty my friends.

But enough about me and my remarkably sordid past.  I have made a list of steps I am going to take to ensure I have a Valentine’s Day filled with love, in its many forms.   I hope this helps my fellow single babes.  Some of these are also applicable to those of you in a relationshit.

1. Focus on the loves of your life; like your cell phone and Chipotle

You have your friends, your family and your pet(s) who give you unconditional love which is not just as valuable as romantic love.  Take the time to reach out to someone you love, like your beloved Aunt Edna who could just as easily be your Uncle Ed on account of her suspiciously pronounced Adam’s Apple, or your creepy older cousin named Gunther with the perpetual tick who always makes you sit on his lap.  Simply hearing the voice of a loved one will make you feel less cold, alone and starved for attention.  I love my family, and know they would answer my call any time, even though not one of them has acknowledged or confirmed my requests to make our precious relationships Facebook official.  And it’s been a year and a half. They must not check facebook often.  Yeah, that’s it.

bunting!

2. Explore San Francisco and relish in the fact that you don’t live in Newark or something. 

I like most of the people in San Francisco, minus the entitled douchebags.  We’ve got heterosexuals, dentists, crackheads, homosexuals, waiters, bisexuals, florists, transvestites, artists, writers, corporates, dry-humpers and dry-humpees. But seriously, there is love everywhere I turn in this enchanting town.   For the most part, I feel a sense of camaraderie with my fellow SF-ers even when I’m riding muni.  Just the other day I put my foot up on the seat in front of me to stretch and the adorable old Asian lady next to me quickly followed suit.  It was like this unspoken kinship.

asian!

3. Marinate in your own company

The more time I spend with my vibrator alone with my thoughts the more I realize how much I need to see a therapist how little I need a significant other to feel fulfilled. Take a walk outside, write in your journal or go see a therapist a movie.  Bask in your alone time and take solace in the fact that you can do whatever the fuck you want, when you want and how you want. Feel like curling up on your tattered bean bag chair while Ben&Jerry’s Rocky Road hits your system intravenously as you watch episodes of Rock of Love Season 2, sift through your split ends and jerk off at the same time?  Do it.  

4. Sharing a bed with someone can be about as cool as a pap smear
Having a bed all to yourself can be nicer than Mr. Rogers.  I know for me sharing a bed would make inflicting serious bodily injuries on someone much more probable given my severe case of Restless Leg Syndrome.  So by being single I am actually contributing to the greater good of the human race because I’m not hurting anyone, and I very well could.  Ah, it feels good to give back.

5. You have a choice
The notion that you decide whether or not you’re going to be happy on Valentine’s day (and in life) is very comforting.  Lately I have been waking up in the morning and reminding myself of the fact that I have really bad bed head a choice – I can make it a good day, or I can make it a royally shitty one.. I choose my thoughts, I choose my happiness and I choose who I let dry-hump me.

And now I feel like Tony Robbins.

Enjoy love day, my fellow freaks.

 

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Alexandra Bunting

Alexandra Bunting

I write a comedy blog called Toe Pick SF. I am deathly afraid of flying and snakes (I suspect there's some kind of Freudian explanation behind that). I speak Gibberish fluently and quite often. I love 80's love songs...if anyone ever got ahold of my Pandora account I'd move to Bangladesh and change my name to Rhonda. I can blow bubbles bigger than Donald Trump's ego. I lose my shoes, debit card and keys a lot. I'd venture to guess they're all on an island somewhere mocking my predicaments. Okay, that's about it.

  • Alex Beltran

    Couldn’t have said it better myself. I’m 27 and been single my whole life. Out of my sister and 3 closest girl cousins, I’m the last the single woman standing. I sometimes struggle with it but know that I much rather have my independence.