@font-face { font-family: “Courier New”; }@font-face { font-family: “Wingdings”; }@font-face { font-family: “Cambria”; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: “Times New Roman”; }p.MsoListParagraph, li.MsoListParagraph, div.MsoListParagraph { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; font-size: 12pt; font-family: “Times New Roman”; }p.MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst, li.MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst, div.MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; font-size: 12pt; font-family: “Times New Roman”; }p.MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle, li.MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle, div.MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; font-size: 12pt; font-family: “Times New Roman”; }p.MsoListParagraphCxSpLast, li.MsoListParagraphCxSpLast, div.MsoListParagraphCxSpLast { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; font-size: 12pt; font-family: “Times New Roman”; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }ol { margin-bottom: 0in; }ul { margin-bottom: 0in;
I absolutely loathe this day. And I’m sure this is a very common sentiment for many others.
I’m painfully aware that I’m single— probably because I remember it every second of everyday. Of course, there is so much hype surrounding this day— the sick marketing and insane commercialization depreciates any value of romance. In fact, so I could assume, it forces upon a mate to perform in a manner that may not be natural; scripted love is for the movies, not real life.
Usually, when it comes to my bouts of surliness with love, it goes one of two ways:
· I pout and consider the love I already have, and discount romantic love.
· I grit my teeth, slug through the day, and go to bed— the next morning I feel refreshed and remind myself of the quote, “This, too, shall pass.”
Paired with the first bullet is that I have a conversation with whomever. I bitch my heart out, and it ends up that the best broken-record advice is given: “You’ll find someone someday. You’re young and have your whole life ahead of you.” I have problems with this statement; I live in this moment. Not tomorrow, not next month, or years to come. And for right now? I have yet to share a requited romantic connection with someone. The question arises, “Is it better have loved or never to have loved at all?”
Last night on the radio show, I mentioned the Portuguese word, with which I am in complete adoration, saudade. It isn’t translatable in any language, and one must have grew up in the culture to fully comprehend the word: loosely translated, it means a long lost love or yearning for that which is unattainable— if there were ever a word to describe myself, there it is.
I’ve wondered if I present myself in a way that is not appealing to others. Although, when it comes right down to it, I don’t wish to appeal to anyone but myself— not in a standoffish, arrogant way, but as to find peace within myself. “Love first; then love another.” I practice yoga regularly, and I have self-worth. I can accurately say that I do love myself and that I’m ready to love another; the opportunity or person has not yet approached me.