Well, here I am, my first solo Valentine's Day ever. I thought that merited a post - not a bad achievement age 33. I should clarify though: Valentine shares his saint's day with my Dad (happy birthday, bossman!), so throughout my childhood and adolescence the 14th February was primarily a family birthday. Even last year, which was technically my first V Day on my own, we spent the day en famille celebrating my Dad's 60th so the significance of the date in its romantic sense passed me by a bit.
So, this year was another little challenge for me. I listened patiently to colleagues waxing lyrical about their V Day plans, presents and cards. I purposely asked no-one what they were doing tonight in case they asked me what I was doing - avoidance tactics, you see. I put my blinkers on when I had to brave a card shop to get my Dad's birthday card the other day, and I actually looked on in I don't quite know what - horror is too strong a word, but something of that ilk - at the number of women clutching single red roses on my walk through touristland tonight. (Maybe I sound bitter and twisted now, but I genuinely don't get single red roses. Which woman wouldn't prefer a whole bunch? Or maybe not even roses? And half the time I reckon single red roses are bought under pressure to get rid of the rose seller hovering at your table. OK, enough of that, I could be seriously offending people here and jeopardising my chances of receiving roses ever again!).
Anyway, as the title of my post dictates, you can hold the sympathy. I've been through far, far worse than surviving a commercialised day of romance. Seriously. And I've tried to make the most of today in my own little way. On Saturday I bought some hot pink underwear. Just because (and mainly because T always bought me underwear on V Day). I decided to wear it today to make me feel a little bit hot. I knew that no-one but me would see it but that didn't matter, in fact, that was exactly the point. Then when I was at work I got a text from my favourite Australian: 'Roses are red, violets are blue. You're a top bird and I love you. Have a lovely day McRudders and know that you are loved.' That made me grin from ear to ear so thank you little Marra - so thoughtful. And I went for a facial this evening and loved every minute. I could lie back and relax and enjoy being pampered for a whole divine hour. That's what V Day is about for me now - loving myself, something that doesn't come that easy but this was a step in the right direction. The biggest surprise was when I got there and the therapist told me I had to take off my top; I was so pleased that my new bra was getting some unexpected airtime!
When I got home I had a nice glass of Riesling from Marlborough (which made me think about my lovely friend Laura, who I also love) and some rice cakes, which was just what I fancied. Then I had leftovers from yesterday's slow cooker effort, washed down with a delicious glass of SA Pinotage and Groove Armada blasting from the iPod. I spoke to my lovely family, and then I savoured the second to last square of my very special dark chocolate that I have to import from France. I had only myself for company and the whole experience didn't set me back an arm and a leg. It also means there's no-one to argue with (T and I were pretty adept at the old V Day argument - far too much pressure to be loving and romantic didn't suit us). Admittedly, it also means no loving either. Which is tough. I guess on one level what I'm saying is that I'd give anything to be out in deepest darkest touristland, clutching a single red rose, having paid an arm and a leg for an overpriced meal, arguing with T about a triviality. But on the other, I'm OK - more than OK in fact - and quite pleased to have been able to manipulate today into what I needed it to be.
Big love to all of you - today and every day. Mwah xx
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