The Single Woman’s Dating Playbook: The Valentine’s Day Distraction

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What’s that? What’s that sound, you ask? Oh, that’s the sound of the sweet lullaby that has come to be the soundtrack of my Thursday nights.

It is the sound of the one evening each week, where I wrap myself in my down comforter, pour an extra-large glass of wine, and reminisce on lovers past. Okay yes, that probably isn’t limited to once a week, but Thursday night is special.

Thursday night, the evening before Friday, has a special ring to it. It is the ring of a leather bound book slamming down onto my mattress and the rustle of parchment as I crack open — you guessed it – the Single Woman’s Dating Playbook.

As I flip through the pages one by one, my room begins to smell of musty determination, jovial resilience, and potentially regrettable yet highly amusing decisions. Decisions of which I have chosen to share with you, the Single Squad, as an act of both comradery and humbling admiration.

Imagine me, Victoria, sitting cross-legged on my bed somewhere near the beach in Los Angeles, adorned in a pajama set that falls stylistically somewhere at the crossroads of “risque pilgrim” and “sexually frustrated housewife” and know that I will continue to recount dates of yore with as much passion as I can muster.

As of late, amidst my own personal heartbreak, we broke down The Groupon, a date famously known for its ability to release participants from a post-breakup haze. The week before, in response to the multitude of readers that inquired about asking out a friend, we talked about how to strategically hit on an acquaintance. The week before that, we quite literally mixed business with pleasure as I laid out how to whittle down your to-do list whilst also drinking and flirting.

So that brings us to tonight. February 1st to be exact. On Sunday was the Super Bowl the only thing left between us and Presidents Day will be every commercial card manufacturers’ favorite holiday, Valentine’s day.

That’s right, I said it. Valentine’s Day. Think of it as saying, like, Voldemort instead of “he who must not be named.” If you say the name out loud, it doesn’t seem as scary.

Now, whether or not you like Valentine’s day, it’s coming for us all. Especially for my squad currently occupying the space in between “single” and “locked down,” the 14th can be a doozy.

I understand that there are probably more opinions about this commercial holiday than on whether or not children should be eating detergent pods, but if you’re like I was last year – in the “seeing someone” stage of dating, then it’s a thing you’re going to have to confront regardless.

So, without further ado, I give you: The Valentine’s Day Distraction.

Shoot Your Shot

The year was 2017 and my relationship status was foggy. I had just relocated to Los Angeles, so some might even say it was smoggy. Yeah, I’ll let that one marinate for a second.

Anyway, I was living in mid-city LA and if you had asked me what I wanted out of the time I spent swiping and going on dates, I probably would have shrugged my shoulders and said, “I mean, I don’t know.” I was feeling slightly noncommittal, in the “I just moved to a new city, will you let me live?” kind of way.

So, you can imagine my trepidation when Valentine’s day approached out of nowhere, prompting the boy I was seeing to utter the following statement over drinks and a large order of happy hour tater tots.

“So….Valentine’s day is coming up,” said Larry.

(Larry is obviously not my suitor’s name, but I decided it’s so funny to imagine this scenario with a guy named Larry. Plus, I’m running out of ideas for fake names to protect the identities of lovers scorned. So, we’re going with Larry.)

“Haha, yeah,” I said, letting the weight of his statement settle. I realized quickly that Larry thought he had some sort of cinematic type obligation to celebrate this holiday with me because we had been on, as of that moment, 4 ½ dates.

See, Larry was British and while he had lived in the states for a couple of years, he was still impressively romantic. He was very much invested in the idea of Valentine’s day and the pink hearts that go along with it. Maybe England is different in that they don’t become jaded by years of obligatory classroom Valentine’s day cards or the rage against the machine anti-Valentine’s day rhetoric we like to subscribe to as prepubescent teens, but he was still all smitten with St. Valentine.

Honestly, it was refreshing. I tire easily of the “I hate Valentine’s day” mantra, so his entirely innocent eagerness to participate in the holiday wasn’t nearly as off-putting as I initially anticipated.

“I’m not against Valentine’s day,” I continued, “I think it’s a little bit weird to go all scorched earth on a holiday that’s about love, but honestly I’ve never been one to celebrate.”

“Well, we could celebrate together!” Larry responded.

I could feel the expectation mounting and it knotted my stomach instantly. I certainly liked Larry, don’t get me wrong. But our relationship was progressing appropriately. I knew if we went down the dinner for two, roses and chocolate, “I feel really strongly for you” rout it would be fun for an evening, but the comedown would be brutal. We weren’t ready for that, and if we acquiesced to the typical Valentine’s Day ritual, we’d be setting ourselves up for failure – I just knew it.

So, I had to pull an audible, and I had to pull it fast.

Plan Your Play

I took another strong sip of my rather strong drink and put my hand on Larry’s. He was sipping wine (because of course he was) and when I looked him in the eyes, his palpable eagerness was almost enough to throw me off course.

I didn’t want to say no entirely! But was there a happy medium? Was there something in between full on Valentine’s day courtship and ignoring the holiday entirely?

“Do you know what I really love about Valentine’s day?” I said, the Lincoln Logs of a plan slowly stacking in my brain to build a tiny idea cabin.

“I love that it’s not just about romantic love. You can tell whomever you want that you love them. My grandpa sends my sister and I chocolate every year, and one Valentine’s day all of my single friends got together and had a party and got really drunk and wrote each other inappropriate Valentine’s day cards.”

Larry laughed. “You’re right,” he said, “It’s just a very lovable time of year.”

“Exactly!” I replied, elated he was catching on.

“Okay, how about this?” I pressed, hoping he would bite.

“You come over to my house on Valentine’s day. All you have to bring is stamps and wine, I’ll do the rest.”

“Really?” he said, highly confused and slightly skeptical.

“Yes, and wear something comfortable.”

Shoot Your Shot

After work on the 14th, I raced to the 99 cent store and picked up craft paper, tiny confetti hearts, glitter, markers, and lots of love-themed stickers. I spread the supplies on my kitchen table, ordered a pizza and lava cake, and changed into my most comfortable red dress. Okay, it was a red nightgown, but I had heels on so I’m fairly confident it could have passed as couture.

I wasn’t nervous until the moment I heard my doorbell ring. Would this be enough? Was Larry still hoping for a fancy dinner coupled with souffle and confessions of affection? All I had to offer was card making and strong cocktails.

“Ta-da!” I said as I opened the door to greet him, shoving my nerves as far down as they would go.

The pizza man arrived moments later, kind of throwing off my whole grand surprise, but the smell of lava cake quickly remedied any imposition.

“I thought we could make cards. Like for your mom and sisters, and I’ll make one for my grandparents. We can make them for our friends too! I have a mailbox downstairs…we can mail them tonight…”

I rambled on and on until he kissed me on the mouth. Immediately, I relaxed.

“This is perfect,” he said in that accent of his.

We spent the remainder of the night drinking wine and making cards. His parents were still in England, and they loved Valentine’s day, so we made them cards adorned with cliché poems and stuffed the envelopes with confetti hearts. We made our friends cards with inappropriate jokes and pictures of butts and made my elderly neighbors cards which we slipped under their doors once the wine confidence kicked in.

Sure, the whole evening was cheesy and romantic as hell, but it was also comfortable and reasonable (and cheap!). It took the focus off of “us” while still allowing us to be together without the unnecessary pressures of flowers and chocolate.

That night, when he kissed me goodnight and I watched from my window as he dropped the envelopes into the mailbox below, I knew I’d hit the Valentine’s Day sweet spot.

Larry texted me this morning, actually. It’s been almost 9 months since we spoke last.

“That was still the best Valentine’s day I’ve had,” he wrote.

“It better be,” I replied, thinking about him for the first time in a while.

I wonder what Larry’s been up to. All I know is that he better not be using my date with another girl this year.

I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Kind of. .

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CallMeVictoria

Life is messy, let's get dirty. itwasvictoria@gmail.com

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