I think my favorite thing about Valentine’s Day has to be Target aisles filled with clueless lovers trying to find the perfect gift to show their partner that they love them. It may sound weird, but there just is something so cathartic about the amount of work that we humans put into this one single day. I’m just someone who loves love.
I just love everything about Valentine’s Day: the flowers, the dinner dates, the chocolate, the stuffed animals, even those really gross-tasting conversation hearts that I spit out every time I try them. And don’t even get me started on the color palette. Pink, red, and white? It’s the cutest combination ever, in my opinion. As I sit here typing this, I already have my nails done with a French tip and hearts all over.
While I am over here geeking out on how much I love love, it never felt like love reciprocated the same feelings toward me. When I was in high school, I never had a boyfriend — I didn’t even have a homecoming or prom date. I watched all my friends cycle through multiple relationships while I felt alone and unwanted. How did four years of school pass by and not one person expressed any interest in me? I truly felt like love was running away from me and I did not know what I could do differently to catch it.
So why do I love Valentine’s Day so much? I honestly could not tell you. In my 21 years on this planet, I have spent every single Valentine’s Day alone except one. However, I do not count that one Valentine’s Day as a successful one.
I genuinely thought we were soulmates due to the nature of how we met: What were the odds that he texted me right before I deleted the app? What were the odds he came up on my feed again despite me swiping left once already? It felt like fate.
I met my ex-partner on Hinge (of all places) about a year and a half ago. Originally, I had swiped left on him: He had a photo of him with a fish up and I remember thinking “Men with fish photos are walking red flags — left!” But a week later, he came up on my feed again. This time, Hinge left a little note at the top of his profile saying “We think you and him would be compatible.” I vividly recall thinking “Hm, this guy again? Maybe I should give him a chance despite that fish picture.” So, I swiped right.
Funny enough, the day I matched with him, I had decided I was done with Hinge and I was planning on deleting it later that night. He texted me on Hinge right as I was about to log out of the app and delete it, so I gave him my number. I genuinely thought we were soulmates due to the nature of how we met: What were the odds that he texted me right before I deleted the app? What were the odds he came up on my feed again despite me swiping left once already? It felt like fate.
He was the only guy I had ever met that made me feel something. I had butterflies in my stomach when he texted me and sparks when we touched. He said all the right things and made me feel like I was the most important girl in the world.
He would call me every night if we were not together. He would tell me how happy he was that he met me, how beautiful I looked, how I made him feel. We never fought. Once, I stayed with him and his family for a whole week and I loved being in their company especially since they made me feel so welcomed. They included me in all the things they did as a family and I could have sworn on my own life that he was going to be the man I married. But almost a year into our relationship, in February 2022, it seemed as if he was pulling away from me.
There I was, expecting him to stay with me and take care of me as I did for him, but instead, he got in his car and drove himself right back home. (What a man am I right?)
On Feb. 10, he came to visit me at school and then, just two days before the big day, he got so violently sick that he was bedridden, and I had to take care of him. Then, on Feb. 15, he gave me the flu, a sinus infection, a throat infection, and strep throat. There I was, expecting him to stay with me and take care of me as I did for him, but instead, he got in his car and drove himself right back home. (What a man am I right?) I was shocked. This was not something the man I fell in love with would have done. He was the type to always make sure I was OK, so where did this behavior come from?
Months later, my entire world shattered. It turns out that the whole time he was with me, he was cheating on me with another girl from his hometown. It was a punch to the gut, face, heart, and just about any other extremity or organ you can think of.
I found the girl’s Instagram, where she had photos of the two of them dating back for months. Here her latest post had a comment from him that was posted at 9:30 P.M. — I was lying next to him, cuddling and watching TV at that exact time. I felt like throwing up.
When I confronted him, he admitted they slept together multiple times, that she had met his parents, and that she apparently did not mean anything. However, a day later he dumped me, and our relationship was officially over. Meanwhile, he and the girl he cheated on me with are still together to this day.
On Valentine’s Day, I love seeing others in love. It gives me hope that one day I won’t be the one staring in awe and thinking “Wow, that person is so lucky to have a partner who loves her enough to do this gesture for her.”
Every time I think of Feb. 14, a part of me goes back to that terrible first Valentine’s Day and I start to think about him and everything that happened. Some would think that going through this less-than-ideal experience would have made me hate love, but it made me love it even more.
While I don’t have a Valentine this year, I am choosing to love myself. I know it sounds a little cliché, but after a breakup, it’s easier said than done. The truth is, I struggled with loving myself for a long time after my breakup. I was miserable, hopeless, broken-hearted, and ashamed of myself. However, when I began putting myself first, I started feeling excitement and love come back into my life, and that’s worth celebrating.
On Valentine’s Day, I love seeing others in love. It gives me hope that one day I won’t be the one staring in awe and thinking “Wow, that person is so lucky to have a partner who loves her enough to do this gesture for her.” It serves as a reminder that I deserve the same love as others are, and that one day, my future husband (wherever he may be) will be the guy other people are looking at in the stores and thinking “Wow, whoever he’s with is a lucky gal.”