There are two ways that people feel about Valentine’s Day: they either love it or hate it. I have no bitterness toward the holiday, despite having been single on February 14 for the past three years. When I was married, we celebrated it because it was also our anniversary.
The last two years, I was down a bit. It felt like the world was coupled up while I sat on my couch alone. This year, I took matters into my own hands to ensure that today was magical and full of love…for myself.
I started by visiting the Korean day spa I love. There, a woman wearing just her underwear (black with tiny red hearts as a nod to the day, I assumed) scrubbed me down to babysoft newness. It sounds weird, but it’s incredibly wonderful to slough dead skin and get a fresh start.
Next, I had house cleaners make my house sparkle. It’s more significant than it sounds; hiring help has been on my list since my divorce, and I now can afford it. Though everything is in the wrong place (do they do that as a joke?) it’s wonderful to not have to rely on my teen’s half-assed cleaning job this week.
Then I visited my masseuse friend for more pampering. I don’t understand people who don’t get massages. Especially when you’re not partnered up, you have fewer opportunities for nurturing physical touch, so massage serves the purpose (plus my friends are a huggy bunch, so that helps).
Pizza and wings have been ordered. I’ll enjoy the rare sit-down meal with my kid (mine accompanied by champagne just cuz). Then he’ll head to his dad’s for the weekend and I’ll enjoy some ’80s rom com and feel satisfied with my day.
This year, I chose to focus on loving myself rather than be sad because no one was giving my roses (that’s never happened anyway) or taking me out.