The vast majority of Valentine’s Days in my life as an adult have been spent single, and yet I’ve always loved the holiday. If you’re a regular reader – and if you are, I apologize for being mostly absent these past months (more on that later) – you know I’m a hopeless romantic. If I’m with someone, I like to give her little mini-Valentines throughout the year (just goofy “I love ya” stuff), but on Valentine’s Day it’s time to make a special effort, and I love it. The years when I’m not with someone, I usually spend Valentine’s Day thinking about past loves and daydreaming about some future love yet to have walked into my life. Whatever loneliness I feel is typically drowned out by the eternal optimism that is my modus operandi.
This time around… I’m not feeling it. At. All. In fact, all the shiny happy couples that I’m constantly bouncing against throughout each day and night, in person and on social media, have become oppressively irritating, rubbing away my optimism smile by smile. Valentine’s Day this year just takes that irritation I’ve been feeling and turns it up to 11.
I think the shift in feelings is due to the realization that being alone is something I’ve got to live with for at least 3-4 more years due needing to work full and part-time jobs to take care of my kids and maintain my house (once the kids are in high school my financial obligations ease a bit). So between working and the time I get to visit with my kids, that usually leaves one day or evening a week that I’m free to be social. How am I supposed to meet and court someone special one weekend day/evening a week? I tried and it doesn’t work.
So add that on top of the 4 years since my ex and I split, and the 4-5 years of being emotionally alone while married, and that’s a long fucking time.
I think my “glass half-full” optimism has always been driven by the hope that things are going to get better soon. And while life is full of ups and downs, in general I do think things generally improve. I’m happy with a lot of different parts of my life. But recently I’ve had to admit to myself that romance, love, partnership is just not in the cards—that desolate stretch of emptiness goes on for the foreseeable future. And that fucking sucks. It pisses me off, and makes it tough to maintain the smiles and optimism that I’m known for.
I started this blog when my ex and I separated as a way to mentally keep me from becoming that bitter divorcé that so many people fall into after breaking up with their spouse. I used it to document and reflect on past loves, and to ponder what future love might bring. Well, after three and a half years of writing the well of actual real life love experiences is tapped out (not that it was very deep to being with). And except for one all too brief exception, there has been no new love experiences to write about… and it’s become hard to even imagine when or if future love will come around. I would write “My Ideal Woman…” posts as an ode to a future love I knew would come around eventually. Now, I’m pretty sure she’s not. Not for a long, long time.
This blog was born out of optimism towards women, love and relationships. That optimism is gone now. That’s why I haven’t really been feeling up to writing. Well actually, I’ve still wanted to write, but each time I sat down to write something it’s always been negative. People don’t want to read negative shit, especially not from me—I’ve always felt that my positivity is what drew people to read my blog. But I felt that I owed you guys some sort of explanation since I know from my own experiences following blogs it kinda sucks when they just… stop.
I don’t want things to stop here… I’ll do my best to think of interesting and positive things to write about going forward… but the source material for most of what I’ve written here so far is a dried up well, so let’s keep our fingers crossed I can find something else worth writing about.