My 20th Valentine’s Day

In a week, I’ll be spending my 20th Valentine’s Day in this planet. Of course, I didn’t make a fuss out of the 14th of February when I was still younger. For the past 4 years though, being surrounded by all these joyous lovers anxious about what they ought to do during the day, I have come to dread the “love day”.

I made up lots of reasons at times–that it was cooler to be single during Valentine’s, that I didn’t care because it’s just some money-making day invented by Hallmark, or that I hated the yucky love stuff. Deep inside though, I’ve always wanted to know how it feels to have someone ask you out for a date, to get serenaded in private or in public, or even to get some flowers (which again, I claim to hate). { Ah, flowers. Remind me that I have to buy myself a bouquet on Sunday.}

At the outset, I may seem too happy, loud and full of naivete but if you really know me, you’d know that I have some sort of penchant for drama and self-inflicted pain (no, not that kind of self-inflicted pain). Whenever a realization strikes me that I seem to have a flair for being single, instead of partying it up and living the life, I look at pictures of happy couples going on dates and just being together. Yeah, it feels like torture at times but it is during these moments that I wake up from my idealistic world where a random guy would bring me to a rooftop and dance the waltz with me while it’s raining ala Zac Efron.

This post doesn’t actually have a main point. I’m just feeling a little less quirky and more attentive on what I’m missing out on. I told my cousin (who just recently got a girlfriend) a while ago that this will be my 20th Valentine’s Day technically alone. He told me {non-verbatim} : “Shu, hindi ‘yan.”

As for me, I only have two words to live by for the next two weeks: No Expectations. If Lady Luck decides to be nicer to me during this month that I mildly loathe, then I will be filled with nothing but gratitude. Else, I will still be thankful that I at least get to live during that day without physical wounds, brain damage, or a threat to my life. I’ve mastered being able to ignore how everyone goes frolicking during dinner, how everything HAS TO BE red, and how not having PDA is what’s being frowned upon.

Valentine’s is just another day. I have 364 1/4 days throughout the year to show my love for pizza, coffee crumble ice cream, Facebook, Century Tuna tuna paella, and Chris Carrabba.

For the mean time though, let me capture all of my feelings through one line from my favorite poet: {Tonight, I can write the saddest lines.}

No, I’m not returning to my freshie year emo state. I’m just finally writing about something that’s closer to my heart instead of some rant or rave about a new resto I discovered or a list about a random topic. Yes, I’m sad tonight. But no, I won’t be sad on Valentine’s.

In my yearbook write-up, the last lines say {You will realize that in becoming a part of [Meki’s] life, there won’t be any birds, or flight, or stars and clouds…maybe just long walks, laughter and dancing.} On my 20th Valentine’s Day, I’m not sure if there would be long walks or dancing–in that context, I think those are reserved for cheesy dates with cheesy people. But for certain–no matter what happens during that day–I will make sure that there will be laughter. And lots of it.


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