Single people always rant about how much Valentine’s Day is a construct of the established love-ridden elitist structure in order to shove the lonely proletariat face straight into the dog-poo filled fact that we’re alone in this world and that everyone has someone except for us. However, as a person who has been single for most of her eligible life, I take a different, rather positive view on Valentine’s Day. The day gives me an excuse to eat a lot of chocolate and indulge in my self-pitying fantasies every hour, on the hour, and not feel guilty for doing so.
Take this Valentine’s Day, for instance. You’d think being abroad I’d have some article to write about how awesome a day I had because I was in London and many opportunities were available to me.
Really, it was just like every other Valentine’s Day since I was 13 – full of fantasies and chocolate – since no one really wanted to go out on a Monday, and I was too much of a pansy to walk around London by myself.
I’ve talked with many of my girlfriends about our fantasies, and I’ve found they’re all disturbingly similar, involving some moment of weakness – despite our strong, independent woman status, mind you – and a gorgeous man with large biceps riding in to save the day, or something to that degree, plus or minus the moment of weakness, but always maintaining the large biceps element.
These fantasies bloom as a young girl, sometimes even in elementary school. Despite all of our dating experiences, they stay relatively the same.
However, recently I’ve noticed a new, more realistic element to my fantasies. For instance, today I was in the Tube – London’s subway – when a gorgeous, young, dramatic dark-haired man sat down on the seat across from me. We exchanged the standard awkward Tube avoidance glances and hence, the fantasies began. In my mind, we shot each other longing glances until I had to disembark, at which point he dashed off the Tube just as the doors were closing, took me in his arms and said, “I saw you there on the Tube and I just knew I had to make love to you!”
We kissed passionately and then it took a turn that it’s never taken before. After our passionate kiss, I immediately imagined us wrapped up in post-coital sheets, with him telling me how much he loved me and me responding, “Darling, you are my world, but it’s not going to work out. Look, you live in London, I’m just going back to the States. I’ve had a great time these past few months, but it’s just not realistic. I mean, there will be a whole ocean between us, and I just don’t know if I’m ready for a trans-Atlantic commitment.”
“But I love you!”
“Yeah. Stay cool. Peathe out.”
That last part is said like Kip from “Napoleon Dynamite,” bidding goodbye to Napoleon as he runs off with LaFawnda.
I don’t think this new add-on to my fantasies is a sign of me growing up in the slightest sense. Yet, I’m still having fantasies involving clichd scenarios.
However, at least I can say that on this Valentine’s Day, I’ve taken a step toward more realistic expectations. Besides, I’ve had great chocolate.
Kaminsky can be reached at email@example.com.