When Trash Day falls on a major commercial holiday, I am morally obligated to tell you every single opinion and thought I have ever had on the topic. Currently, I’m typing this from airspace somewhere between Atlanta and Dallas and I have to say, the Valentine’s Day energy in this plane is lackluster. I do believe God answers prayers, but apparently my request to sit next to a tall, dark, handsome stranger wasn’t high on the Big Man’s priority list. I do, however, have an empty seat next to me which I consider the next best thing–mostly because now I don’t have a random person reading over my shoulder finding out that they are not the tall, dark, stranger of my dreams. Although this is fairly obvious given the sentences you have already read, I am single. This probably comes as a massive shock to all of you, given how stunningly beautiful and incredibly interesting I am.
The typical narrative between Valentine’s Day and single women, is decidedly negative. The two angles of this narrative are either, “I don’t need a man” or “I’ll find someone someday.” Both of which paint women as one dimensional characters with no complex thought, and any man can (and almost certainly will) tell you that women are nothing if not complex. While I think the two narratives CAN be true, I believe that they are very rarely so singular. Before we dive into it, let me say this: If Valentine’s Day elicits negative emotions in you, that’s ok. I am not here to try to convince you out of your feelings.
Here’s the deal: I love Valentine’s Day. Not in the red roses, box of chocolate, spend all your money kind of way, but in the candy hearts, classroom valentines, pink and red way. Got it?
Celebrating love should be a blast. Whether you are in a relationship or not, we all can agree that love is fun. I like making Valentine’s Day about love with a lowercase L. An entire day dedicated to being loving to one another. Dedicated to telling the people you care about, that you care about them. Wearing pink (which I am not, bc it washes me out) and red (also not wearing red bc, again, not my color) is just a form of recognizing that love is worth celebrating, it’s worth talking about. When I think about my friends and family, I realize that I am not good at expressing my love for them. Can’t we just make love (lowercase L) casual? Can’t we just buy Reese’s hearts and jellybeans and tell our people what they mean to us?
Maybe not. Maybe Valentine’s Day is only meant for romantic love. Even then, I’m not capable of rolling my eyes at it. At the end of the day, I am a romantic.
I always have been and probably always will be. It’s something I love about myself. The idea of choosing someone, of feeling safe enough to fall in love, is beautiful to me. I’m not speaking from an experience of some great love but love isn’t that hard to figure out. It’s messy and it’s painful and people fall over and over again because how could you not? The fact that humans are brave enough to do that is a testament to the fact that we look for love. We look for it all the time. And when we stop looking, people tend to find it even faster (the classic “it’ll happen when you least expect it” trope). Although I’m trying to make a case for V-Day, I am not blind to how the holiday is twisted. I know that not everyone has good, pure intentions.
The commercialized, obligatory, manufactured romance of the day doesn’t appeal to me. No one should have to use a holiday as a means of manipulating affection, commitment, or affirmation (women OR men). Not because affection, commitment, and affirmation aren’t important for healthy relationships, but because if something only comes from manipulation, is it real? The side of humanity that is perhaps less beautiful is our selfishness. People always say, “you accept the love you think you deserve” but you also take the love you think you deserve. We cling to what makes us feel irreplaceable and sometimes we suffocate one another in the process.
But, we’re all human. We all have different attachment styles, different trauma, different longings and desires. It won’t always work. What if we turned Valentine’s Day into a time to celebrate the fact that we try anyway. We (most of us) still believe love will happen to us.
Being single during the holiday can often serve as a reminder of loneliness, desires, or perceived misgivings. I want to rewire that part of my brain that tells me those things.
Growing up in a sheltered christian culture, I watched marriage become an idol. I found myself subscribing to a thinking that said, “life starts when you’re married.” It’s not a blame game, or anyone’s fault, but it is a consequence of glorifying marriage in the church to such an extent. Here’s the deal. Life has started. For me, life started 23 years ago. How could I look at my work, my friendships, my mistakes, and my wins and say those are just practice for the real thing?
To enjoy Valentine’s Day, to love Love, feels like breaking the feedback loop that says love is zero sum. It’s not. No one else’s relationship reduces my own chances. So I let myself be empowered by Valentine’s Day. It removes romance as an idol and instead replaces it with joy. Joy for others, joy for my own life and the love I find all around me, joy that no matter how bleak and dark the world gets, I still get to wear pink and red, eat candy hearts, and sing love songs and that is no small thing.
Lovingly,
Your trashiest friend
B
