Carry On

I do despise Valentine’s day. No, I don’t hate love. I don’t hate seeing people in love, or being in romantic relationships. But Valentine’s day hosts the majority of issues we see with the condition, the disease rather, that so many people clutch onto like they would a root when dangling off a cliff.

This disease being, the over-romanticizing, I would go so far as to say fetishizing, of romantic relationships. I do call it a disease, because it is something that plagues the minds and hearts of so many people in our world. It did me too at one point. And no, I’m not about to lay out a soap box go on a rant over here in my little space of the writing community of the world. I’m trying to shed light where I’ve really only seen pains of darkness.

On February 13th, I was enjoying my night, all by myself. I put on some Van Halen. Panama to be exact. And I turned on a movie to have something in the background. As is pretty usual for me, having studied film and theatre, I started sending Snapchats to my friends about new and cool things I was noticing in said movie.

One friend, specifically one who has this disease so critically I’m surprised she’s still alive, sent me one back. She was watching a movie herself, and the words on my phone read, “My roommates know this movie is my cry for help, and they’re not here.” It was a rom-com. A decent one, but seriously one she watched only when she was feeling like she should have someone to love her. She gets it so bad that if it was some physical condition, I would tell her to go to the hospital. She was sitting there torturing herself, because she didn’t have a boyfriend, or any kind of date for Valentine’s Day.

Why? Why not just enjoy her night as best she could? Do something she liked, put on Listen to the Music, by The Doobie Brothers, one of her favorite artists. Why? Because she was so busy looking for external love, believing true love is only external, she had no idea how to love herself. And honestly, she probably doesn’t love herself. It shows when she tries so hard to be confident. It works on some people. It probably works on herself too at times. But love flows. It doesn’t need to be forced.

I had nothing to say to her. I regretted opening her message, because now she knew I saw it. But I had no idea that would be her response. I’d had this conversation with her multiple times, yet she never seems to have gotten it. The concept of different kinds of love, or internally being the origin point. I was honestly running out of patience, so I responded, “What do you have to be sorry for yourself for?”

Again, it sounds like I’m over here hating love and romance. I know. BUT again, I don’t. I swear. I love love. So much of our art, our music, our stories are about love. It’s a major driving force for a lot of creation and beautifully touching moments. What I hate is the idea that we need romantic love to be whole, or happy. I hate the expectations of “love.” So many people are in love with the idea, or the position to fill rather than the reality of the person.

In my experience, the feeling of loneliness is the desperate cry for your own soul. Not anyone else’s.

The music changed, and Come Together by The Beatles came on. A little different than Van Halen, but I still vibed with it, danced to it, because it too is an amazing song. I channeled the truths of that song and the reaction my body and soul wanted to have from it. Just like with all things, acting on the truths of what is rather than the ideas of what should be.

When it ended, I pulled up Instagram and was confronted with another close friend of mine who is like my little cousin. Her girlfriend had recently broken her heart, and she was having a Galentine’s Day photoshoot with her roommate. They did each other’s make up, got in seriously stellar outfits, and had a cookie cake in the shape of a heart with “NO.” written in the icing. A powerful image which her ex was bound to see.

Jeez. The expectations were ripe this year and they were crushing. All I could think about was how happy I was having fun on my own. Why? Because I was loving myself, I was sitting there having my own dance party to Sweet Emotion by Aerosmith, because I was rolling with the waves of my own truths. I wasn’t thinking about what I should be doing. I’d had enough Valentine’s Days where the expectations were far too predetermined by what parents and grandparents believed to be “proper.”

That’s real rock, being yourself, doing what you love, and allowing others to do the same. Sure, Valentine’s Day has its notoriety for making so many people remember that they’re single, but there’s nothing wrong with that. the issue comes with the idea that we shouldn’t be single. There’s no way we should or shouldn’t be. The only sin is not being true to yourself. Do the things that you love. If someone else is along for that ride, great. It’s a wonderful thing, so long as it’s truthful. Everything is beautiful so long as it’s truthful. There’s so much beauty in that.

Sure, we could sit here and hate on Valentine’s Day. We could cry because we can’t fit into the capitalist creation of the celebration. We could have a truly anti-Valentine’s day photoshoot saying how much we hate it and don’t need it. But honestly, what’s more rock and roll, more anti-Valentine’s day, then just not caring. So, turn up Heart’s Barracuda and have a good time.