It’s the day before Valentine’s Day.
I don’t want to be sad, but a small part of me is.
I keep telling myself Valentine’s Day is a made up holiday created by the greeting card companies and chocolate manufacturers. It’s bullshit.
It’s also Fat Tuesday, Mardi Gras. We have a concert downtown with Cajun food and cold beer. Live music, and fun people. I’m going. With a girlfriend of mine who divorced right around the same time I did. So we are going to celebrate the Anti Valentines Day together and not let each other get too drunk, too sad, or too full on good food.
Then I’m going to come home, climb into bed with Bruce the Body Pillow and my dog and binge watch Homeland….or maybe CougarTown until I fall asleep. Hubba-Hubba.
Tomorrow will be another day. I can’t promise that tomorrow won’t be another sad post, but maybe I’m completely wrong. Maybe I will wake up full of gratitude for singlehood and ready to flip the finger at conventional pairing up that society (and those damned greeting card companies) keep trying to pitch us. Maybe I won’t feel compelled to expose you lovely readers to photos of dead insects. Yes – I photograph the occasional dead thing, it’s ok, I didn’t kill it.
I didn’t remember last year being this bad on Valentine’s Day, but then I went back and read my journal entry. It was worse. My daughter was worse too – we are both far better now than we were a year ago. My divorce was final just before this time last year and I was still so darn sore all over like I’d been hit by a truck. Like my heart ache had infected every cell in my body.
This year is not like that. This year is just a little…..lonely. It’s crazy that I’m ashamed to admit that I’m lonely. I suspect I’m only lonely because the world has gone CRAZY for love (insert gag reflex here).
Ok….pity party needs to be over. I have a fellow single to meet at the Fat Tuesday Street Dance for some fun, good food, loud music and Barley Pop.
Tomorrow will be better.