Fate
Today is Friday, February 14th. Yes, it’s that day...
As a single, unattached woman, I’ve loathed this holiday for years. The fact that two serious boyfriends had conveniently broken up with me the week before Valentine’s Day is likely the main reason. And adding to the rejection, I had to return my already-purchased gifts for them, though I did keep all the chocolates for myself. A friend told me under the circumstances, the chocolates were calorie free. A slight consolation.
When the calendar turns to February, I dread the upcoming parade of roses and candy. And stupid red hearts start appearing everywhere, seeming to mock me and my singleness.
I’m okay with being single for the most part. It isn’t my first choice, and truthfully, I would love to settle down with a sweet and decent guy. But so far, Mr. Right hasn’t shown up at my door. His appearance remains elusive in my life, but I have faith that he’s out there, somewhere... I’m only twenty-six years old and refuse to feel desperate or panicked yet. Instead, I’ll let my mother do all the worrying and hand wringing concerning my love life. God knows she’s become a pro at it.
My career as a flight attendant appears to be a stumbling block for many guys. In fairness, I’m away from home more than I’m actually here in San Francisco. One guy I dated said he was tired of spending lonely nights by himself on his couch eating takeout for dinner. He even asked if I might consider quitting my job.
I couldn’t quit my job in this economy or any for that matter. I love what I do. When I told him that he was asking too much from me, I watched him get up and walk out the door. Deep down inside I know that I’m better off without him, but it still stings, especially today, the day anointed for lovers.
I might adjust who I am for someone, but I’m not willing to completely change myself just to please them. Looking into the mirror and seeing my frizzy hair is hard enough. I need to also see a reflection of someone that doesn’t make my stomach turn.
As Shakespeare said, “To thine own self be true.” Words to live by I suppose.
My flight segments wore me out today. They bordered on tortuous. Friday happens to be the worst day of the week for Valentine’s Day to fall on. It adds up to planes full of couples canoodling in their seats as they jet off for a romantic weekend somewhere to enjoy strawberries and champagne. I tried not to scowl at them but my aggravation was likely obvious. My behavior was nothing to be proud of. Envy never really is.
During my last segment back to San Francisco, I’d had enough of all the couples for the day and was teetering on doing something that might make the nightly news. Nothing too violent, of course, but the thought of pouring a few drinks over a pair of steamy lovers to cool them off did cross my mind. Especially when one of them looked like an ex of mine.
It took some restraint, but I’m proud to report that I left the airport sans handcuffs. I decided that harboring ill will against something I really want in my own life creates bad Karma. And I’m not stupid enough to mess with her.
So now back at my apartment, I’m safe from a world which has gone painfully red for the day. My best friend, Monica, lives a couple of floors below me. We spoke yesterday and decided to spend tonight watching a movie, painting our nails, and crying into our wine glasses about how we need a man. Sounds kind of pathetic, really, but we need something cathartic to purge this day from our system. Wine and bitching mixed with a few tears usually does the trick.
After changing into an oversized t-shirt and black yoga pants, I go deep-sea diving in my large tote and find my phone swimming somewhere on the bottom. Monica is expecting my call, so I locate her number and press on the phone’s screen.
“Hey, Em. You’re back home?” Monica answers quickly. She’s likely ready to forget this day too.
“Yep. Got back
Today is Friday, February 14th. Yes, it’s that day...
As a single, unattached woman, I’ve loathed this holiday for years. The fact that two serious boyfriends had conveniently broken up with me the week before Valentine’s Day is likely the main reason. And adding to the rejection, I had to return my already-purchased gifts for them, though I did keep all the chocolates for myself. A friend told me under the circumstances, the chocolates were calorie free. A slight consolation.
When the calendar turns to February, I dread the upcoming parade of roses and candy. And stupid red hearts start appearing everywhere, seeming to mock me and my singleness.
I’m okay with being single for the most part. It isn’t my first choice, and truthfully, I would love to settle down with a sweet and decent guy. But so far, Mr. Right hasn’t shown up at my door. His appearance remains elusive in my life, but I have faith that he’s out there, somewhere... I’m only twenty-six years old and refuse to feel desperate or panicked yet. Instead, I’ll let my mother do all the worrying and hand wringing concerning my love life. God knows she’s become a pro at it.
My career as a flight attendant appears to be a stumbling block for many guys. In fairness, I’m away from home more than I’m actually here in San Francisco. One guy I dated said he was tired of spending lonely nights by himself on his couch eating takeout for dinner. He even asked if I might consider quitting my job.
I couldn’t quit my job in this economy or any for that matter. I love what I do. When I told him that he was asking too much from me, I watched him get up and walk out the door. Deep down inside I know that I’m better off without him, but it still stings, especially today, the day anointed for lovers.
I might adjust who I am for someone, but I’m not willing to completely change myself just to please them. Looking into the mirror and seeing my frizzy hair is hard enough. I need to also see a reflection of someone that doesn’t make my stomach turn.
As Shakespeare said, “To thine own self be true.” Words to live by I suppose.
My flight segments wore me out today. They bordered on tortuous. Friday happens to be the worst day of the week for Valentine’s Day to fall on. It adds up to planes full of couples canoodling in their seats as they jet off for a romantic weekend somewhere to enjoy strawberries and champagne. I tried not to scowl at them but my aggravation was likely obvious. My behavior was nothing to be proud of. Envy never really is.
During my last segment back to San Francisco, I’d had enough of all the couples for the day and was teetering on doing something that might make the nightly news. Nothing too violent, of course, but the thought of pouring a few drinks over a pair of steamy lovers to cool them off did cross my mind. Especially when one of them looked like an ex of mine.
It took some restraint, but I’m proud to report that I left the airport sans handcuffs. I decided that harboring ill will against something I really want in my own life creates bad Karma. And I’m not stupid enough to mess with her.
So now back at my apartment, I’m safe from a world which has gone painfully red for the day. My best friend, Monica, lives a couple of floors below me. We spoke yesterday and decided to spend tonight watching a movie, painting our nails, and crying into our wine glasses about how we need a man. Sounds kind of pathetic, really, but we need something cathartic to purge this day from our system. Wine and bitching mixed with a few tears usually does the trick.
After changing into an oversized t-shirt and black yoga pants, I go deep-sea diving in my large tote and find my phone swimming somewhere on the bottom. Monica is expecting my call, so I locate her number and press on the phone’s screen.
“Hey, Em. You’re back home?” Monica answers quickly. She’s likely ready to forget this day too.
“Yep. Got back
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