Valentine's Day Is Over--I wishOh, that old Billy Bragg song. . . .what to write? How does a single woman approaching 40 write about Valentine's day without being too cynical or too sappy? How many presents can one get for oneself without it becoming an empty cliche?
I went to bed last night thinking about all the machinations women go through--fretting and worrying about whether they'll get married, have a family, be able to manage a career, blah blah blah. And I got very resentful when I realized that men probably don't lie awake at night worrying about these things at all! I also bet that they don't have strange totems tied together with red string in their 'love' corner; or sleep only on one side of the bed in order to 'make room' for their soon-come beloved; or leave half of their closets empty; or any of the other strange, bordering-on-superstitious, behaviors of single women trying to attract a mate.
So, I decided that this year--besides the lovely little raw chocolate brownies made by Kirnjot that I highly recommend--I was going to give myself the best gift any woman approach 40 could possibly give herself: I'm going to liberate myself from all such machinations of folly. I'm going to sleep in the middle of my new, huge, queen-sized bed. I'm going to use every single closet in my apartment. I'm going to clear out all my superstitious totems to 'love' and its incredible sway over my psyche. I'm going to quit wishing and hoping and dreaming and all such gerands of grandeur and I'm going to just be in my life--as it is--right now.
I feel better already. Happy Valentine's Day!