By Kevin Assam

 

The dynamic lesbian real estate agent and pastry critic, Stephanie Barnow had this to say about our upcoming day of love:

“Valentine’s Day changes for people in a relationship. In the beginning of a relationship it is very much an excuse to publicly celebrate new found love. Sending flowers and making a big display is part of the fun of new love. As the years go by, Valentine’s meaning deepens as love does. Instead of going out and being amidst the hand-holding smoochers, you stay in and make each other your favorite meals and watch movies until you fall asleep in each other’s arms – or something else if you’re lucky. Personally, I’ve always enjoyed the tradition of Valentine’s Day. It reminds you to take a moment and appreciate a love you have, a love you want, or to give the kind of love you would like to receive. Appreciation is a practiced skill and this is a fun way to exercise it. Who doesn’t like being shown how much they’re loved?”

She’s right. I need to appreciate a love I have. A love I want. And even the kind of affection my romantic Libra traits can provide. That love, this year, will be the one I have with me.

This time last year I had swallowed the egregious pill of puppy dog love for someone who deliberately went unwashed for days on end because it gave his hair “character” — and probably a microcosm of ickies. Eek!

Allow me to clear my throat for the onlookers in the back. Not. This. Time. I have bent my back out of sorts over the past year. It was not from one too many passionate romps or attempts at amateur video techniques. I bent my back helping a lot of other people connect and find love. I introduced a delicious young blonde twink to his present husband. Oopsie if there’s a separation in the process. I have helped pull several lesbians out from hiding and on to the dating scene. Even a brunch associate has fallen hard for my tarot card reading friend as a result of my social wrangling skills. I’m good at matching others. Most of the time. I just have not been able to match myself. There were so many failed attempts: the quasi-closeted bad businessman, the unwashed street performer, the idiot chef, the egomaniac francophile, the impossibly chic Trump supporting Mormon, the sex-crazed widow (honey, I’m not putting out), and on and on.

This Valentine’s, I’m appreciating myself. As my not-really Wiccan art expert wing-woman and go-to relationship adviser revealed:

“Honestly, I’ll be appreciating myself on Valentine’s Day with a rose quartz dildo and minty lube. I hope to appreciate myself several times over. The minty lube expands the surface area of the g-spot. Hoping I’ll be able to make myself squirt. I’ve gotten close but I think the day of love would be a nice time for a breakthrough.”

She’s absolutely right. Let all of us lucky enough to have a whole bed just to ourselves embrace that extra space to roll around this year. We should make those table for one reservations at wherever makes the best fresh fettuccini. We should buy ourselves those heart clogging overpriced chocolates and feast while we watch Eat Pray Love or Under the Tuscan Sun for the forty-seventh time.

We need to appreciate ourselves. It’s the only way we will have the energy, drive, and thought to continue nurturing our needy friends, man-baby interests, and challenged coworkers.

As one southern comedian and self-appointed relationship expert proclaimed:

“I’ll probably buy a bunch of shoes for myself in honor of being my greatest love. Maybe call up a few exes to remind them what a huge mistake they’ve made. Then make snarky comments on any ‘happy couple’ Facebook posts.”

If you’re fortuitous enough to have discovered this article then know that the statistic gods have chosen you to execute the aforementioned advice. I wish you a splendid Valentine’s Day but I wish me one a bit more.