A few months ago I was planning on writing a scathing piece about the evils of Valentine’s Day. That’s how much I loathe it. But tonight I looked at the calendar and wait—what? Tomorrow’s that vile, sappy, insincere excuse for a holiday? I didn’t even notice its approach. I suppose I’d subconsciously blocked the usual symbols from entering my mind. I didn’t see the roses, the balloons, the horrible clash of pink and red side by side…
I’ve gone on three dates this weekend, and two of them were blind dates. And in the two weeks past, I’ve been on a date.
I’m not trying to brag, I mean, this is rare for me. In fact, it’s rare for most females who do not have a significant other to call their own. Guys just don’t date like they used to. I kind of don’t blame them though. After all, dating gets expensive and lately it signals commitment or something.
February has been fun. Still don’t like single awareness day, but it isn’t as painful this year because I’ve been distracted. I’ve liked getting to know some new men, and spending time with one whom I’ve known for a while.