A Valentine's Day Truce

A Public Service Announcement, on the eve of Valentine's Day: 

You're happy. You're in a relationship. Fine. I won't stand in your way. (Unless you're trying to make out in front of me in the line at Starbucks. I will probably do my best to make that uncomfortable for you. But I would do that on any day--that behavior is not exclusive to Valentine's Day.) I know you'll instagram the bouquet of flowers that are delivered to your office and you'll make a disgusting status update on facebook to make sure the world knows you're in love. I know. And that's fine. You do you. Yolo or whatever. (But really, please don't make out in front of me. Or anyone. Take that home.) 

But please, please, please--when you encounter someone single tomorrow, don't tell them you're sure they'll find The One. I don't know how many times I've heard that from a couple who was wrapped around each other, about to go have thanks for the generic diamond necklace sex, making me wish for a dragon attack or anything, anything to get me out of the conversation. It's so patronizing. Here's the secret about single people, that maybe you've forgotten since you aren't single anymore: 

We know. We know that we're single. It's not a secret. We've done the bouquet/garter toss at weddings when you pushed us onto the dance floor. We've answered the questions from our relatives. We've dutifully nodded through your suggestions of internet dating, speed dating, and that nice young woman in your apartment building. WE KNOW WE'RE SINGLE. And some of us don't care. Some of us don't want The One. Some of us don't necessarily believe in that, and don't care about it. Some of us just want to hang out with our friends and we're happy that way. Some of us want more than one. Some of us don't want to get any more serious than exchanging snapchat names. But some of us want that.* Some of us are actively out there looking for The One and it hasn't worked. Because it's hard. So when you tell us that our turn is coming, it's really shitty. It is in no way reassuring. 

So let's make a deal, couples. When you're celebrating this weekend, do your thing. But I'm going to do my thing too--and my thing is being alone, disliking this holiday, and waiting for the price of chocolate to be reduced drastically. I'll refrain from making fart noises and loudly discussing STIs** if you keep your PDA at a respectable distance from other people. Think you can manage that? 

*Don't worry, I'm not including myself in that group. Gross.
**Again, unless you're being gross in front of me, or in my way. Then you can expect me to be on the phone asking if someone else has a mysterious rash, too. You've been warned. 

PS--Keep an eye on my facebook and twitter, for a little Valentine treat later today.

PSA

I spent this weekend in the city where I left part of my frozen heart: Northampton. The wedding of a Smith College friend brought us together for a serious weekend of craziness and fun and dancing. We spent Friday night catching up with everyone at our bar, and then had the MOST BIZARRE experience. Several of us left the bar together, and stood together on the street for a few minutes before we parted ways. We talked about, among other things: Finland, Minnesota, psyching yourself up before a presentation, and embarrassing yourself before a presentation. During this 10 or 15 minutes, we were loud. It was a Friday night downtown in a college town--no need for an inside voice. 

And the WHOLE FREAKING TIME, this couple stood two feet away making out. They were really going at it. 

Seriously.

It was disgusting--find somewhere more private than a street corner! WHY ARE YOU MAKING OUT ON A STREET CORNER? Take that shit inside somewhere! At least stand in a shop doorway or something! 

Why would you want an audience for that? I'm hoping they were drunk, because that's the only reason I've ever been slightly less concerned about witnesses. DON'T DO THAT SHIT IN PUBLIC.

Unless I make out with Ryan Gosling, in which case I don't give a damn who sees.