Valerie-Times Day XXXIX

This is the first time I've been single on Valentine's Day since 2013, so I didn't quite know what to do with myself.

Back then, I made a point of being bitter about my status every year, but I've grown up over the past 9 years and, either I've gained some maturity or I've lost the energy to wallow in self-pity. Who knows—maybe those are actually the same thing! In any case, I don't seem to have it in me to muster up much bitterness. In fact, I'm feeling a little upbeat about the whole thing!

This year, as soon as it became clear I would be without a lover on the day of love, I hatched a plan. At first, I intended to go to a Valentine's Day singles mixer (something I did the last year I was single as well), but as my weekend before it filled up with events, I realized what I needed more than anything was just a quiet evening in my own company. I logged out of the dating apps, turned down all two gentlemen who requested to see me that day, and planned a date with myself. To use an entirely hackneyed phrase, I was going to make it a day of self-love.

I would light all the scented candles in the house and take a shower with scented shower steamers. I would order a stuffed-crust pizza and eat cheesecake for dessert. I would cut my hair and epilate my face (because I've been putting those things off for too long; not because they are particularly indulgent treats). I would take a silly selfie with my dog. I would shop online for a gift for myself (a habit I started when I was single back in the previous decade, and continued even when I was partnered, because — let's face it — men are terrible at gifts). And I would do it all in the romantic ambience of my themed living room, which I had decked out in red-and-purple floral decor as soon as I put my Christmas decorations away for the year.

 

Though I was dead-set on having a true Valerie-Times Day—all by myself and blissfully free of men (who always seem to disappoint me on this most high-stakes holiday), somehow one managed to worm his way in. I'll spare you the agonizing details of what ensued, but it ended with him slinking out my front door like a wounded puppy, still clutching the bouquet that he'd thought to bestow upon me.

I could have handled that better.

It's true I had relished in the idea of a very anti-romantic Valentine's Day, but I hadn't planned on crushing anyone's heart quite so brutally. While I still got my much-anticipated evening of solitude, I spent most of it ruminating about what had gone down and how I could have avoided it, so it wasn't quite the celebration of singledom I'd hoped for.

The irony doesn't escape me. I'd spent most of my adult life feeling gypped on Valentine's Day—whether because of lack of a man or lack of effort from a man, but this was the first year ever where I wasn't going to let my happiness be influenced by men. And yet somehow, at the eleventh hour, my Valentine's Day was ruined by a man! 

 

At least I still got my cheesecake.

Three breakups and a pandemic

These days, I usually try to be circumspect about how much personal stuff I share online, and if I do share, I like it to have a more universal purpose—some kind of takeaway that can benefit my readers. At first, I thought this post had totally failed in that. I thought it was a good old-fashioned self-pity party like I used to have in the old days. I almost decided not to post it at all. But the more I think about it, the more I see that this can be an inspirational tale. Or a cautionary tale. Or a tale of whatever you gain from hearing other people's stories. So sit down (it's long), and experience an increasingly rare glimpse into my heart. Just try to be gentle with it—it hurts!

It's March 12, the exact date that last year, my state's governor announced the first restriction on public gatherings, to slow the spread of the coronavirus. I'm glad to say that it looks like things are finally looking up, and like almost everybody else who writes stuff on the internet, I was planning to use this anniversary to do a little retrospective musing, perhaps share a few snappy tidbits about how life has changed since COVID.

But a few days ago, my subject matter took on an unexpected twist (because I'm not very good at dramatic suspense, I'll just tell you right now: my boyfriend broke up with me). So now, I'm taking this time to revisit not just the coronavirus era, but my last three relationships and the interstices between them. They all tell a story, and a year in quarantine is just the middle.

Eight years ago in January, my 7th boyfriend and I had a breakup. It was basically an accident; I went into the conversation thinking I wanted to clear up some concerns I had about our relationship; I ended it as a reluctant single lady. After I got over the initial heartache, though, I honestly wasn't too disappointed to become a single lady. It was during our tenure that I had finally learned how much fun life can be if you just act a little social, but we hadn't gotten out much together, so I was eager to experience the best of what city life had to offer!

What followed was a crazy couple of months. I went out clubbing; I got invited to parties (sometimes I brought my ex with me!); I did a fair amount of unenjoyable online dating; and eventually I ended up with my 8th boyfriend.

Though I kind of missed the thrill of meeting new guys once we paired up, I was happy to have a partner in crime. We spent a lot of our time living it up: going out at night, dancing, partying, and drinking—and I loved it. But he, who had been doing that kind of stuff for years before we met, was getting tired. Our relationship suffered a slow decline over nearly six years, from constant fun to the Valentine's Day that wasn't, to a breakup a week later.

Part of me was relieved that it was over, because we'd been growing apart for so long, but at the same time, we had been together for so long! I really didn't know how to be anything else!

Since our split happened around Mardi Gras, I gave up men for Lent, and focused on forming female friendships and becoming a strong independent woman. It worked, but it wasn't the life for me. As soon as Easter came around, I kicked into manic mode and jumped back into the dating scene! While being single in 2013 had been more downs than ups, I remembered how exciting the ups had been, and I wanted more of that! I had always loved trance music and concerts, but hadn't been to many. As soon as I was ready to mingle in 2019, I started going to a show almost every two weeks. And at every one of them, I had an absolute blast and met someone I was excited about. Then I met the one I was most excited about: boyfriend #9.

From June to the following March, he and I made concerts the centerpiece of our relationship; we didn't see each other often at first, but if there was a show in town, that was always a good excuse to meet up. I thought that someone 8 years my junior who I met at a concert would surely be up for lots of activities, but actually, other than for concerts, he wasn't often interested in going out. I sought out novelty on my own, through a women's Meetup group and my Bumble BFFs, but it just wasn't gratifying to me without a partner.

Sometimes I was disappointed that he wasn't as eager as me for constant activity, but our disparate drives for excitement were all moot when the coronavirus arrived and everything changed. I went from constantly striving for things to do and people to do them with, to just being at home. I was somewhat surprised how soon I grew to enjoy the quietude of a life unburdened by pressure to be moving and shaking. After a few isolating weeks, my boyfriend was permitted by his roommate to come visit me again, and we settled into a groove of after-work hangouts at my house, takeout dinner dates, and board games galore!

Our relationship was enough for me when our social circles narrowed, and I was feeling no further inclination to recommence the bustling life I'd led in the Before Times. I went into the COVID days desperate for excitement, but I was ready to go out of it with a comfortable sense that I'd had excitement enough. Although I was looking forward to attending concerts again, I also felt like I was ready to relax and enjoy a slower pace of life, with my slower-paced boyfriend by my side!

And then he ended things.

There are a lot of things that this breakup has in common with the last one: both occurred sometime around the intersection of February and March; both occurred for the same main reason (differing life goals, to be vague about it); and both involved an hours-long tear-filled conversation precipitated by a "We need to talk" (his words, not mine!).

There are also things that are vastly different. The last breakup (and the one before it), I was eager to have a chance to meet lots of people and explore my wild side...but this time, I don't feel like doing anything of the sort. Quarantine taught me that a quiet life isn't a bad life; it might even be the life that I prefer! Our final conversation as a couple really solidified for me how much my desires have changed, and I can't get over the irony that just when those desires were finally aligning more closely with my boyfriend's, that was when he stopped being my boyfriend.

A global pandemic did for me what years of experience did not: helped me to be happy with what I had. Now that I have something completely different, can I be happy with that too? My friends all tell me I've grown a lot since the last breakup—I'm more confident and less codependent. So this time around, can I just do my own thing and not need no man?

Haha, probably not. I know myself well enough to know that I am happier in a relationship, and as soon as I am over my devastation, I'll probably look for one again (in other words, no giving up dating for Lent!). But this time, I'm going to do things differently. I know I can do it, because I already have!

I had felt a lot of personal responsibility for the gradual demise of my previous relationship, so after it was over, I made some goals to be a better girlfriend next time around, and I'm pleased to say that I achieved all of them! In the process, I think I've evolved from seeking thrills to welcoming the quieter times that lead to a deeper connection. This doesn't mean I'll never go to concerts again, but I'm ready for a calmer, more deliberate approach when it comes to meeting boyfriend #10, whenever I'm ready for that to happen, and wherever I go from there.

 

So yes, my life has changed tremendously since COVID! As the world starts to return to normal, I don't feel like I have a normal to return to. But I'll figure out.

Cohappy Cohabitation

Today, in an uncharacteristic moment of seriousness (oh, wait, we probably were only there for the animated GIFs), my boyfriend and I were discussing this article on Buzzfeed about things you should consider before moving in together.

Now, you should probably know that my boyfriend and I never really, officially, moved in together. We've been a couple for 3 and a half years. Sometime near the beginning of that era, my boyfriend invited himself over to my house and never left. Slowly, his collection of clothing and sporting equipment migrated from his former homes (he is the legal owner of his parents' house and had a lot of stuff there, but was living at his sister's house next door when I met him) to mine. I cleared off a space on my bookshelf for his clothes...then I cleared off a shelf in the linen closet...then I bought a wicker hamper for the clothes that were ending up all over the floor...then I bought him a wardrobe from Ikea.... Now, in the third home we've lived in together, he has his very own man-cave (his clothes are still strewn all over the room that he tells me is mine). But after all this time, his official address is still his parents' house in another city.

The aforementioned little tidbit is only tangentially related to the real subject of this post, which is things that couples should do/expect before they officially move in. We went through the list and concluded we're actually pretty good at living together, despite never having actively made a decision to do it. We fell into most of the habits listed in the article naturally. There were only a few things that really stuck out as something we have done differently or could still do differently.

4. You may fight more at first and that is TOTALLY normal.

Though we are very, very different, Al I, oddly, hardly ever fight. Of course, I whine and complain and occasionally get quite snippy when I've asked him to do something 5 times and his answer is always "I was going to do it." (When? 30 years from now?) But getting to the point where either of us is raising our voice, crying, or so frustrated we feel the need to run away, hardly ever happens. I can think of maybe only 3 times we've ever had a real argument. Does this mean we are just burying our problems? Does it mean that we don't take our relationship seriously? Or does it mean we're just responsible adults who know how to deal with our conflicts in a mature way? I think it mostly comes down to Al's being exceptionally easy-going...but I'm happy to take at least some of the credit if I can.

7. Consider opening a joint bank account and splitting the bills evenly.

Three years into our coexistence, we are still 100% financially independent. We have settled (mostly tacitly) into a system of sharing the expenses that seems to work for us. Sometimes we pay more and sometimes we pay less, but we always pay for the things that matter to us the most. I pay for our housing; Al pays for the utilities. I used to pay all the utilities as well, but when he started turning our home into an electronic wonderland and constantly wanted to fiddle with the thermostat, I asked him to pick up the utility bills (now I just pay for water). When we travel, one of us gets the airfare; the other gets the lodging. Al pays for almost all our food (since he loves to splurge on gustatory experiences), and I pick up the tab when we shop at Rugged Wearhouse and the thrift store (since I'm the holder of the loyalty cards). 

Keeping our finances separate keeps us from arguing. If Al wants to blow his whole paycheck on a slightly larger (already too-large) television...well, it's his money. And if I want to blow my whole paycheck on — well, nothing, because I would never do that! — but if I did, Al wouldn't try to interfere.

14. Get all your pet peeves out on the table ahead of time.

I'll admit it, I'm a peever. Everything annoys me. Everything.* If I had bothered to list out all my pet peeves to my boyfriend before we started dating, we'd probably still be having that conversation today. But today, when I asked him, "Do you have any pet peeves?" he was like, "Yeah! ... I just can't think of any right now." I reiterate, one of Al's best qualities is that he's so easy-going, which makes him a perfect match for someone as high-strung as me. So when I find something is annoying the dickens out of me, I try to remain calm, ask Al to do things differently, and usually he does. Or at least he tries.

17. Talk about your standards for what “clean” is, and figure out a plan for how things around the house will get done.

Cleaning is probably the number-two cause of conflict in our relationship (number one is our differing definitions of punctuality). I like everything neat and tidy and orderly, and Al just doesn't care. He throws his dirty clothes everywhere. He never grooms his dogs or cleans up their fur. I usually pick up after him silently, until the point where I feel like I'm working all the time while he's sitting like a lump playing video games, and then I have a minor fit. This doesn't count as an argument, because he doesn't try to justify his slovenly behavior, and he always makes an effort to clean up after that...but it always happens again. 

I have come to a sort of understanding about this situation—he will mow the lawn** and I'd better just expect to do pretty much everything else (or prepare to do a lot of nagging***). This is not an equal division of labor by far, but he devotes lots of energy and money to finding us fun things to do in our free time, so I have gradually come to the conclusion that in our relationship, I'm the one who keeps the home fires burning, and he's the one who keeps the party going. In fact, that was Advice Point #18: "And while it may be frustrating, don’t expect things to always be 50-50."

35. Last but not least, make sure to hide the Oreos.

This is a funny, trivial little point that was thrown into the article mostly for humor's sake, but oddly enough, it touches on one of the things that has changed in my life significantly since living with my significant other. To understand it, you must understand that I'm a very introverted introvert who's been living in group houses for much of my life. This means that I was fully immersed in a situation that made me uncomfortable pretty much every day. My only retreat from the constant communing was whatever little room I had to call my own. But sometimes an introvert gets hungry. And doesn't want to brave the social gauntlet that can be the trek from the bedroom to the kitchen and back again for some much-needed solitary snacks. So I got in the habit of keeping a stash of food in my bedroom, so I could eat whenever I wanted to without having to worry about seeing other people. When my boyfriend started living with me, he took the place of my housemates, and I very slowly got used to the idea of living with someone I actually felt comfortable with. It felt like kind of a victory when I recently realized I was keeping almost all my food in the kitchen instead of squirreling it away in the "snack drawer" that I still keep next to my desk. I am pleased to have ended up in a relationship where I have no need to hide the Oreos. It helps that my boyfriend seems to have no interest in Oreos.

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* Originally this was going to be a post about my peeves, and somehow it has morphed into a dissertation about how my boyfriend and I live.

** On mowing the lawn: I've always held disdain for the way work around the house is divided into "men's" and "women's" jobs. E.g. women do the cleaning, men do the "handy" stuff like changing light bulbs and fixing dripping faucets...men do the mowing and women do the gardening. I always prided myself on being self-sufficient, and when I shared a home with a male housemate for 3 years, I did most of the mowing and almost all the repairs. Yet my boyfriend has taken quite an interest in the lawn (I'm pretty sure it has a lot to do with the shiny green Ego mower that cost me an arm and a leg). So I let him have his macho chore, because if he's willing to take the initiative to do anything without prompting (I still have to remind him, because he's a procrastinator), I'm all for it! But I still end up doing most of the repairs.

*** On nagging: Once upon a time, in my young idealistic years, I thought I would be the perfect girlfriend/wife—understanding, not demanding, and never the kind of person who gets referred to as a "ball and chain." When I saw women in movies griping things like, "the furnace has been broken for three weeks; when are you going to do something about it?" I cringed inside. If I wanted my furnace fixed, I wouldn't pester my husband to fix it; I'd figure out how to do it myself! Well, as it turns out, even if you can figure out how to fix your furnace yourself, that just means one more task that's been laid on your shoulders. Some task that you're going to do while your lazy other half does absolutely nothing. Some people (cough! Al!), I have learned, are not self-motivated. Some people need a fire lit under them. Unless you want to be doing everything on your own, you might have to be that fire, and learn to practice the fine art of nagging. Believe me, it's not easy. It requires a thick skin and lots of patience, but with a little effort, you can succeed in getting your sometimes-too-easygoing partner to be helpful.

Whatever happened to the Bitter Valentine Blog?

Surely you remember it...the grand old tradition I kept, for four straight years, of parading my broken heart all over the Internet every February 14th, dispensing cynical observations and maudlin musings, making Valentine's Day a true treat for all my readers, single and otherwise. Where did it go? What happened?

Well, to put it shortly, Al happened. You might know him—the guy I love? In spite of his dog? Well, he has single-handedly prevented me from Bitter Valentine's Blogging for two years running! Yeah, sure, it's hard to get into Love Sucks Mode when you're in a happy relationship, but even more, it's difficult to post a blog when you're busy traveling (see my ever-tardy Indonesia posts for further reference). And no one should be surprised when I say that I and my boyfriend who loves to travel have been out of town for our only two Valentine's Days together.

"Oooh, a romantic getaway!" you're probably thinking. But no — and here's where I think I can still work in a seed of bitterness — we've spent both of our past V-Days crammed into our lodgings with 2 to 4 other people, and both times, the trip has revolved around skiing.

Can you imagine? Me? The one who says "I hate winter" as often as she breathes? Spending her precious Valentine's Day which must be absolutely perfect outside? In the snow!? And yet that is exactly what happened. Not once, but two years in a row. Heavy sigh. The things we do for love.

I feel like I deserve some sort of medal for my dedication and self-sacrifice (no one needs to mention that, now that I have a proper coat, some snow pants, and some high-tech winter gear, the cold hardly touches me and I actually find skiing somewhat fun!), but if not a medal, at least some recognition. And I think I know just how to get it. In a conversation about our upcoming trip last week, my boyfriend made a charming little slip and referred to the holiday as "Valerie Times Day."

I like that. I have yet to experience the Valentine's Day of my dreams, but having a whole holiday dedicated to me would suit me just as well. It also gives me an idea as to what will happen to the Bitter Valentine Blog. As morose as it was, I hate to give up on a tradition.

So from here on out, I vow to always write a post for Valentine's Day. It may not always be on February 14th, and I may not be able to summon up enough angst about romance to match my previous unparalleled self-pity, but I always have plenty of energy to talk about me. So next year about this time, keep your eyes peeled, for I promise to provide you with a Valerie Times Day blog that will knock your socks off. Depending on my relationship status, it may not be the refreshing blast of unadulterated misery that you could count on in the past, but I can guarantee that I will never run short of cynical observations.

The Status Update

In case you were wondering, my last post about falling in love the natural way wasn't just wishful thinking. It was actually happening. And now it is done happening and I am officially a girlfriend again.

Phew. It only took 3 months this time. And while I pretty much broke with all personal tradition and actually enjoyed being single for those 3 months, I enjoy being attached much more.

I enjoy it so much, in fact, that I would rather see him than eat cookies! That's how you know it's serious.

That's also my explanation for why my blogging has been a little sparse as of late—but I do have at least one Giant Cookie Review coming up for you soon.

Falling in Love the Natural Way

Well, I've been single (more or less, but we won't go into that) for about 3 months now, and that means I've had plenty of time to think about falling in love.

I frequently list falling in love as one of my favorite pastimes, being one of the few benefits of being single. You are free to fall in love as often as you want, with no consequences except maybe some lack of sleep and/or productivity.

I'll admit I haven't been doing nearly as much falling in love as I would like, but that doesn't mean I can't pretend to be an expert on it! And what I am going to posit, with my superior knowledge backing me, is there are good ways of falling in love, and there are bad ways.

The bad way goes something like this. You meet online, already hoping you might have found your perfect match. You make a few snap judgments of each other, mostly based on photos, statistics, and writing style. If you haven't rejected each other within the first 10 seconds, you may exchange messages, wherein you try to wheedle facts and dealbreakers out of the other party. If you haven't yet found fault with each other, you meet in person. At this point, you may conclude that the other party is uglier than his/her pictures indicated, or that you can't stand the other's voice, or that his/her B.O. is just too overwhelming. If by some miracle, you still haven't been frightened off, you have the go-ahead to fall in love.

The bad way of approaching romance is a subtractive process, in which you start with lofty ideals and whittle them down to the point where you've either given up entirely or done the dreaded "settling."

The good way, on the other hand, starts with no expectations. You meet in a neutral environment, without even giving a thought to the notion that you may one day be in love. You don't have any romantic interest in each other. You may even find the other a little intimidating, or annoying, or unattractive. You go about your daily business, getting to know each other slowly over a period of weeks or months. You gradually learn each other's good traits and bad traits. You become friends. You learn even more of each other's good traits. At some point, you realize you have a genuine crush on the other, and the things you originally found intimidating, annoying, or unattractive, have transformed in your mind to – yes! – more good traits. But you don't let on. You continue going about your daily business, savoring every tiny interaction to your secret delight. You may continue like this for more weeks or more months, until, perhaps, the other disappears from your life, no harm, no foul. But perhaps, instead, one of you will one day make a move. And then, well, you've already fallen in love! After all that waiting, it's like Christmas!

The good way of falling in love is additive (addictive, too), starting with almost nothing and building up, good thing on top of good thing. It's not contrived, like online dating. It just sort of happens. And things that just sort of happen always feel more right, to me, than things I've struggled to achieve.

It may be counterproductive to set accidental love-falling as an goal, but I sincerely hope I'll keep it in mind the next time I'm tempted to rush things in my desperation to no longer be single.

How to get a girlfriend online

In my last significant entry on dating, back in 2010, I promised a description of some personas that men can try on when they really want to give the ladies a thrill. Well, after that, I got a little distracted by getting into a relationship, but now that I'm not in one, it's all coming back to me—the joys and delights of being on the market—and the wealth of charming fellows you meet while you're there!

For the benefit of those fellows, I have assembled the following guide to online dating. Gentlemen, I hope you're reading, because you're about to learn how to knock the socks off any lady who knows what's good for her! Just strap on one of these attractive personalities, time-tested by online love-seekers just like you, and you'll be on your way to the relationship of your dreams!

The Sad Stalker

Women like a good sob story—why else do you think we love The Notebook so much? So the next time you meet a woman, make it clear that you have no friends and that she is the best thing that has happened to you in your entire pitiful existence. Pitiful is key. If you present yourself to her like a lost puppy, her heart will overflow with maternal instincts and she will want to spend every moment of her life by your side, just so she can hear more endearing tales of how lonely you are.
      Call, text, and instant message her incessantly. She might not respond most of the time, but that's OK, because your diligence will just drive the message home that you have nothing valuable in your life except her. When you do reach her, here are a few conversational gambits you can try on for size:
      After the obligatory greetings are over, the lady might ask you what's up. This is a good time to respond with something like "Nothing. I hate Saturday evenings. I hate spending them alone :/" Upon hearing this, she will surely want to come running into your arms.
      Some days or weeks after your first and only meeting, it is also a wise idea to tell her how much you miss her. Because obviously that emotional bond you built over the shared viewing of an action movie is something that no amount of time and distance can sunder.

The Play Play Play Boy

For those of you to whom love is a 4-letter word and emotions make you angry, you might want to take a less attached approach. Try introducing yourself by way of an email message such as "SEX!!!!!!???" That should be fun.

Mr. Nice Guy

You know, there are a lot of jerks out there. Women should thank god you're not one of them. In fact, they should probably thank you, just for existing, because you would never lie to them, or screw them over, or hit them, or, for heaven's sake, be interesting. Not like all those other jerks. There used to be a whole blog dedicated to men like you, but unfortunately it seems to have closed down. That's OK. There's really only one thing you need to know about how to be a Nice Guy. Just compare yourself favorably to all the other jerks. Often.

The Great Conversationalist

One of the fundamentals of online dating is that you do a lot of online chatting. The nice thing about online chatting is when the conversation dries up, you don't have to apologize—you just move on with your day. Unless you are taking this persona for a spin. In that case, you will want to prove your conversational prowess by resuscitating the chat with one of your tried and true talking points. Such as a smiley face. Or maybe even the "stuck out tongue." If that doesn't work, try it again 10 minutes later. Surely your fascinating emoticons will eventually ignite some discourse. You might also try frequently starting chats with nothing to say but "hi how are u?" Girls love to see strings of this phrase, over and over and over again in their IM history, to remind them of how much they enjoy your conversations.

There. Four infallible roles you can play to ensure that girls will be crawling all over your online dating profile! You're welcome.

Your cup of joy is running over into my personal space.

For the fourth annual Bitter Valentine Blog, I would like to address a major societal problem facing our communities: Happiness. Specifically, public display of happiness in a relationship, which I shall henceforth abbreviate as PDHR. Much like how public displays of affection (also known as PDA), manifested in grody kissing sprees and touch sessions at inappropriate times and places, generally serve to make the onlooking citizenry physically ill, PDHR, while not necessarily physical in nature, is just as off-putting. Turns out this sentimental excess tends to occur almost exclusively on Facebook, which tempts me to run off on a tangent about how social media changes our social interactions, but that wouldn't be bitter enough. However, I shall present a few examples of how some lucky lovebirds employ PDHR to truly nauseating effect.

They write self-congratulatory Facebook posts, such as: "My husband/boyfriend/sugar pie/honeybunch took out the trash for me. Not only is he soooooooo inhumanly talented, he's so sweet and he's mine!" Yeah, I get that part of them wants to pay their significant other a compliment, but the other part apparently wants to drive me away into a nearby toilet.

Then they get the whole family into the action, with mothers-in-law-adding their helpful 2 cents, as in: "I'm so blessed to have you as my daughter!" No, not even my "daughter in law." The best PDHRers get straight to the biological impossibilities and start making up familial relationships that don't even exist.

They also like their public-facing photos to be of such subject matter as themselves kissing their significant other. Now I won't begrudge them an affectionate peck when they say hello or goodbye, but the eternal liplocks that grace a profile picture for the entire world to witness every time one updates one's status are just going to have to stop.

You might recall that we are endowed by our creator with certain inalienable rights, among which are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The operative word there is "pursuit." We're supposed to pursue happiness, not actually have it! So all you people in happy relationships, what's wrong with you!? Why are you displaying your unnatural bliss for all the world to see? Go ahead and be sullen and caustic like the rest of us for once.

On the plus side, PDHRers probably accomplish one thing no one else can do: They gross me out so much that I actually feel lucky to be single, because I'd be so ashamed if I ended up in a relationship that made me act like that!

If you enjoyed this pleasant diatribe, you will no doubt be delighted to partake in any number of my other Bitter Valentine Blogs, which are all listed here for your perusal. Happy V-Day!

2012: Valentinezilla
2011: Bad Romance
2010: What becomes of the broken hearts?

When it's over

It's February, the month of romance! And what better time than now to share the news that my boyfriend and I have broken up?

Sorry. I know a lot of you liked him. I liked him. I still like him. He still likes me. Do we have irreconcilable differences? Perhaps. Will we give it another try? Maybe later. But right now we're respectively and officially single, which has given me a lot of time to mope in the darkness and think deep thoughts. I was going to save them for my annual Bitter Valentine's Blog, but I just couldn't keep silent any longer. Besides, I'm sure that I'll have come up with something magnificently bitter by the time the 14th rolls around.

So, here are some thoughts that have been floating around my tortured head lately, including some musings on my current situation as well as some more general aphorisms that deserve a place on anyone's quote wall.

For example, Isn't it funny how when your heart breaks, it's your eyes that hurt?

Hahaha, good one. In case you haven't guessed, I've been crying a lot. There was a point a week ago (fortunately I think I'm over that period) when I was so grief-stricken that I was haunted by sadness even when I wasn't thinking about it. I would wonder things like why my favorite foods didn't taste good, or why I was having so much trouble swallowing, and then I would remember. "Oh, my heart is broken."

When I'm not outright mourning, I'm overthinking things in bizarrely mathematical terms. A friend told me by instant message that I shouldn't be taking it so hard because "you > Rico." I appreciate that sentiment, but I think it still stands that "me < me + Rico." Unless Rico were a negative quantity, which is not the case. So I'm feeling somewhat...fractional.

I'm also wondering how you can quantify love. How good does a relationship have to be before it's "good enough?" On a scale of 1-10, I would rate my relationship with Rico about a 7—lacking in 3 sort of major ways. When I told my friends about some of the things I was unhappy about, they pretty much unanimously told me I needed to get out! But is it reasonable to ever expect a perfect 10? Looking at it arithmetically, there were 7 major good points going for us. Were those really not enough? I think I would have preferred to try to address the three problems we did have and maybe work our way up to a solid 8.5, rather than starting at 0 again and looking for someone new. Rico didn't seem to see it that way.

The hardest part about this situation may be that we are trying to stay friends. This means we keep seeing each other and I keep being reminded of how many things I like about him. When you see someone at a casual gathering, you only see the good things about them, not the things that drove you apart when you were alone. The other thing about it that's hard is that, in my experience, usually being "just friends"is the first step to not being friends at all. Part of me wishes that we could have just had a rabid, screaming fight, and left never to see each other again, simply to avoid the protracted, painful death of our relationship as we slowly grow apart. But the other part of me clings to the hope that we will succeed. It's happened before.

On the plus side, being suddenly single has done more for my social life than I ever imagined possible. I decided that I should make an effort to meet people in the real world this time around (as opposed to the online venues that are my usual date-getters), and consequently I've been going out and doing things and generally acting like a normal person! I might even be getting over my fear of parties! ...Well, let's not be too optimistic.

It would be less painful if I just hired a career counselor.

Sometimes, I think that men only come into my life to give me a push in the right direction--frequently a career direction. Once they have sufficiently advanced my skills, interests, or prospects, they are gone.

My first two boyfriends didn't do much in this respect, except maybe to get me used to having boyfriends, so that when future boyfriends came along, I would be open to their influential effects.

My third boyfriend, though he probably didn't even know it (That was you, Geoff. Thanks), played a significant role in me going into Web design. Although, by the time I met him, I had already dabbled a little bit in HTML, he had dabbled more. I was so impressed by the stuff he had made on the Internet, I knew I had to get better at it! Maybe I wanted to impress him a little in return. But that was to no avail. Before long, he was gone.

My fourth love interest of non-boyfriend status was a software developer. He was technically a Java guy, but since his company's product was delivered over the Web, he necessarily spent a lot of time creating front-end stuff in HTML. He is the one who taught me how to write and test my own JavaScript code, which I loved almost as much as I loved him. Until he was gone.

My fifth guy, of unofficial boyfriend status, came into my life and promptly attempted to be me. I showed him the basics of HTML, and he became obsessed and bought books and books on web development (function, not form). He spent hours ceaselessly working on these bloated sites that had lots of techy features and looked awful. I was offended because he was encroaching on my domain (and had in fact overshadowed my scripting abilities), so I attempted to uphold my status by creating sites that didn't look awful. At that time, I was studying Publications Design. From him, I mainly learned to hold myself to higher design standards and not just create useless things because I could. As you can probably guess, we had a pretty strained relationship. But soon he was gone.

Six and Seven probably would have had some influence on my life choices, except that neither would commit to anything, so I kind of bounced back and forth between them for about a year. They were completely at odds with each other in terms of career-and-lifestyle effect, thus concurrently canceling each other out.

The one who finally did get through to me with job advice was my eighth love interest and fourth (and current) official boyfriend. When I met him, I was run ragged by my two low-paying jobs, whereas he worked a flexible schedule, could work from home once a week and take a day off every two weeks, was paid 60-some thousand dollars a year for 40 hours a week, and got paid vacations and sick time. And he still complained. Compared to my work, his was heaven. If heaven wasn't good enough for him, then I really had it bad. He encouraged me to apply for jobs with the government, and so I did. I ended up with a job in state government, which is not quite the same as his federal job, but still comes with a lot of the benefits I sought.

Now that I am stably employed and unlikely to go back to the world of two part-time jobs, it looks like my boyfriend's work here is done. He just recently got a job offer in California. Figures. He's served his purpose as career advisor for Valerie, and if the past is any indication, the next logical step is for him to soon be gone. I wish it were not so, but what you wish and what you get are so rarely the same in the world of love and the lack thereof.

Accentuating the Positive

Funny, for all my reputation as a cheerful person, I've mostly filled this blog with lists of things that annoy me. Of course, if you read often enough, you've probably gathered there are some things I adore, such as Giant Cookies, macaroni and cheese, and a well crafted sentence.

But today I'd like to do what I should have done long ago and compile some of my greatest loves in a real list, giving them the recognition they so richly deserve!

Little Doors

By this I mean doors to utility closets, attic crawlspaces, and the like—doors that would be just the right size for a dwarf, but laughably short and tantalizingly mysterious to a human of average height. What do they conceal? Surely behind them is a mysterious adventure of fantastic proportions!

Emotional Overload Music

It's no secret that I'm obsessed with music, but certain types of it stand a cut (or octave, get it!?) above the rest—specifically, songs that sound deliriously blissful and unfathomably sad at the same time. Songs like Jonas Steur's Simple Pleasures (Like all good trance, it runs long, so skip to 3 minutes if you want to get to the meat of it right away—and for your ears' sake, turn down the volume! I've never heard such a loud recording!). If anyone asked me what being in love feels like, I would play them this song—but they never do. A few years ago, Sundawner's Krystal Dreams (Marcus L. Remix) filled this role for me, so it wouldn't hurt you to try that one as well. I can't believe that this, one of my favorite songs, hasn't yet been featured in my blog!

Falling in Love

Sure, heart-stopping music is a good substitute, but there's no thing like the real thing. And that's all I have to say about that.

CSS Layouts

I only have one shirt that says I ♥ anything, and that's CSS. If you are not a Web geek, you might not even know what CSS is, but if you are, you know that it's the language that describes how things look on the Web. CSS is that magical language that combines two of my favorite things: written syntactical language, and pretty designs!

Chemical Pleasures

Some people turn to nicotine or liquor to give them their fix; all I have to do is sniff a band-aid. Or open a new inflatable water toy. There's something about plasticizers that just makes my heart melt. Also, probably my brain cells.

The Wrong Side

Have you ever looked at a tapestry or a bit of brocade...from the back? It is almost invariably prettier than the front. The colors are inverted, and what on the front looks like tiny detailed patterns, on the back shows up in wide blocks of pure color. And I love me some color! This picture is a pretty good example.

Valentinezilla

Ever since elementary school ended and the golden days of egalitarian, teacher-enforced Valentine's Day school parties drew to a close, I have not had much luck with Valentine's Days. Probably the worst was the one when, after I had spent hours preparing a special V-day treasure hunt for him, my Valentine came home late from work and promptly locked himself in his room. When he emerged nearly an hour later, he threw a box of candy hearts and a bouquet of sickly flower buds (they never did bloom) on my bed before passing out in a drunken stupor. Upon awakening, he informed me that he had driven my car up onto the curb and blown out the tire.

Most of my other Valentine's Days, I was single, and celebrated by indulging in varying degrees of bitterness.

This year marks the very first that I had the opportunity to celebrate Valentine's Day in the traditional manner – you know, by going out on a real date with my real significant other – and I aimed to make the most of it. No one was going to stand in my way!

When my procrastinating boyfriend failed to secure reservations for the restaurant he's been promising to take me to since our few-month anniversary, he transferred the restaurant selection to me (fair enough, since I'm such a picky eater) and suggested that if it was too much hassle, we might just make lasagna and stay in. I let him have it.

And by that, I mean I said "darn it."

You might think I'm being a little Type-A about it all, but I've been waiting 28 years for this, and it's my special day! I will have a restaurant! I will wear a pink dress! I will show off my relationship status for the whole world to see! These were the firm pronouncements that I made in my head.

Of course, my special day was not without its share of bumps. Since my plans were to head to dinner immediately after work without heading home in the interval, several challenges arose.

• I chose to shower in the morning rather than at night so I could blow-dry my hair. Unfortunately, my housemate also changed his shower schedule, so I got a late start while waiting for him.
• In the rush to get out the door, I forgot my earrings and perfume, which were going to be essential parts of my personal decor. I did, however, remember the dress, the shoes, and the makeup, which I consider even more essential elements of my decor, and my boyfriend actually complimented me at dinner, which he never does.
• After the sudden realization that the bus was coming in two minutes, I ran to the stop at top speed...and made it, but not without a respiratory price: I spent the rest of the morning trying to clear the resultant scratchy throat.

And then there were the gustatory woes.

• When I pulled my lunch out of the refrigerator, I found my little container of chick pea salad in my lunch bag, empty! At first I thought it might have been a packing error, but when I got home, it was clear that it had not been, and someone had eaten my lunch! I thought I could trust my office mates, but apparently we have one of those mythical lunch thieves that I never believed existed. My faith in humanity has taken something of a blow. Not to mention, I had nothing for lunch but half a cucumber, so was hypoglycemic and none too genial when we ran into traffic on the way to dinner.
• The restaurant that I had picked out had a price fixe Valentine's Day dinner. I figure "fixe" must be some synonym for "exorbitant," because I was appalled by the sum. When I chose the place, I had mistakenly believed their regular menu would be available. It was not, and I was obliged to eat a 60-dollar meal that was less appetizing than, say, a 6-dollar burrito. On the plus side, the meal came with "a rose for the ladies," and since my gift-challenged boyfriend (I could write a whole entry on that topic alone) certainly wasn't giving me one, I had to take what I could get.

Sigh. It looks like, even though my hopes were high for things to be different, I have nonetheless kept my tradition of the Bitter Valentine Blog. Looks like great expectations lead to great disappointments, so next year, I'll return to the regular old low-maintenance me. Or maybe I'll hold out for dinner and a present.

Love bits

Valentine's Day might be over, but I still have a few cynical thoughts about love up my sleeve, and I'm sure as shootin' (that was a Cupid joke, get it!?) not waiting a full year to air them.

Deep thoughts first

This work of art appeared on the board
where my housemates and I
leave each other messages of great import.

I once read in a teen magazine (I was a teen at the time, really!) an Interview With a Cute Guy. One of the questions was, "How do you know when it's really love?" I've been thinking about it ever since.

The Cute Guy's answer was, "When I stop eating." Which is a valid answer, I suppose, except that it sounds more like an indication of infatuation than love. I daresay even Cute Guys of the hopeless romantic variety start eating again once the initial thrill wears off. How can you grow old together if one of you dies of starvation three weeks after meeting? Cute Guy is excused for calling infatuation love—sometimes I use the terms interchangeably. But he has done nothing to help us answer the eternal question: What really is love?

A significant other once told me it was love if he would "take a bullet" for the lovee. Well, he never took a bullet for me, so I dumped him.

In all seriousness, though, there must be some real-life test that's a little less suicidal to determine whether you love someone. Sometimes I think, if I loved someone enough, I might be persuaded to move to a colder climate to be with them. For me, that would be a big deal, a torturous decision that would definitely require a huge incentive. But even if I were really enamored, I think I might elect to have a long-distance relationship part of the year, rather than join my sweetie in the frozen tundra. Or even New England.

I think the truest definition of love for me is one that gets to the heart of my phenomenally reclusive personality. Social interaction is always a huge drain on my emotional energy. Even when I have a great time with someone, and even when I've been starved for companionship and really need some company, I am always happy when I get to be alone again. Love is the one thing that can break through that introversion. Love is the one thing that can make me not want to say good bye, and the one and only reason that leaving someone could ever cause me pain rather than relief. Aww, how romantic.

And Now for Some Decidedly Unromantic One-Liners

• Some people chase after Sasquatch. I chase after love. I don't know which chase is more futile.
• Being in love is eerily like being high on decongestants.
• If all the guys who joked about marrying me actually did marry me, I'd be a polygamist.
• If I had a dollar for every time I saw someone else having a better love life than mine, I'd still be lonely, but at least I'd be rich.

Bad Romance

Since last year's Valentine's Day post on broken hearts went over so well, I have also decided to start an annual tradition: The Bitter Valentine Blog.

Today, I'm slightly less grief-stricken and pitiful than I was this time last year, but I'm still just as single as ever. My solution? I'm going to purge my music collection of all sappy love songs. Eat that, romance!

Fortunately, sappy love songs have never figured very strongly in my music library, but to the few I have, I say "Yer outta there!...But I'll keep you on my backup drive just in case I ever change my mind."

The following songs will no longer get any playtime in Valerie-land, but will be relegated to a deep dark corner of my hard drive along with crappy live recordings, songs that sounded a lot cooler in their 30-second sample, and other unliked music that I'm afraid to delete.

• Gym Class Heroes - "Cupid's Chokehold" Oh, so you've got a girlfriend, do you? Well, you won't be rubbing it in my face any more! Yer outta there! (The dance version, "Girlfriend," by Darren Styles and Whizkid, may stay, because it's catchy and doesn't say anything about "the one.")
• Cutting Crew - "Died in Your Arms" I don't even know what you're singing about, but obviously it involves hugging and even a kiss. Unacceptable.
• Tim McGraw - "I Like It, I Love It" I got this song when I was making a conscious effort to like country music. Obviously I was trying too hard. It's outta there!
• Brooks & Dunn - "My Heart is Lost to You" If there is one sappy country song worse than "I Like It, I Love It," it must be this one, which isn't even upbeat! Maybe I thought it was cool because it had some Spanish lyrics. How's this for Spanish: ¡Tú eres perdido de mí!
• Natasha Bedingfield - "These Words" How many times can you say "I love you" in one song? Ms. Bedingfield seems determined to find out. But no, that's not OK. She's outta there!
• Lange - "Sincere for You" One of those dance songs that sounded a lot cooler in the 30-second sample, but ended up being vocal-heavy sentimental slop. I'm surprised I kept it as long as I did.

I strongly encourage all readers of this blog to do as I have done, and free your lives of romantic music. But if thumbing your nose at the love song industry isn't enough for you, I have some suggestions for songs that will vindicate you and/or assist in the process of wallowing in bitterness. The following selected songs are all about love gone wrong. I have no shortage of those!

• Sinead O'Connor - "Nothing Compares 2 U" Somebody broke up with you? Why don't you cry about it?
• Fool's Garden - "Lemon Tree" Somebody broke up with you? Obsess about your loneliness!
  
• Lerner & Loewe - "Without You" (From My Fair Lady) Somebody broke up with you? You don't need em!
• The Airborne Toxic Event - "Sometime Around Midnight" Somebody broke up with you years ago, and you're still thinking about them? This is the song for you!
  
• Cake - "Never There" Ah, love unrequited. My favorite topic for a song!
• Nine Inch Nails - "Only" Featuring the mantra of every spurned lover: "I just made you up to hurt myself."
• OAR - "Love and Memories" Should be self-explanatory.
• The Raconteurs - "Steady, As She Goes" Finally, a critical portrait of the married life, just to remind you it's not so bad to be single.

How to kill off your dating prospects: advice from the expert

Ladies and gentlemen, after 2 years going on dating sprees separated by lengthy periods of imagined contentment with quasi-relationships, I consider myself an authority on love. And rejoice—I am now going to share my wisdom with you! Today's topic is: How to kill off your dating prospects (figuratively!). Both men and women can benefit from my sage advice.

Gentlemen: Be That Guy.

As an online dater, you have the advantage of presenting yourself in any way that you wish. Addicted to meth? No one needs to know. Want your face on top of (insert hot celebrity name here)'s body? That's fine. And you get to choose any one of a multitude of plausible personas! My personal favorite for scaring off the chicks faster than a hawk's shadow? The One-Track Mind.

When chatting with a new woman online, pick a topic and stick to it. Fanatically. Remember, this is the Internet, and normal rules of courtesy need not apply, so you can and should pick every girl's favorite subject to discuss with strange men: sex. If she has a photo posted online, make sure your first words to her are, "u r hottt!" Truncating the "you" and employing multiple T's are crucial. You want her to know early on that your interest in getting her into your bed far exceeds your mastery of English. If you have not seen her picture yet, demand one, because there's no point getting to know a chick if she doesn't look like a supermodel. Once you have received the required photo, proceed to the previous step.

Following this, if you are confident that your attempts at flattery have set the lady's heart aflutter, you may then invite her to see your manhood. However, if you are like most men, you'll want to take things a little slower than that and begin your courtship with some casual conversation. Here are some good questions to use to break the ice:
"What's the wildest thing you've ever done with a guy?"
"What's your favorite place to be kissed?"
"What are you wearing?"
"What are you wearing underneath?"

A chastity belt. Go away.
Ding ding ding! Congratulations! Following these steps, you can be certain that The One Track you're on is the Fast Track to rejection! Never fear, however. Just because you've successfully scared off one female doesn't mean that there aren't many more out there, just waiting to be repulsed! In later posts, I'll be discussing the many more personas you can try on them, including The Speed Dater, The Bore, The Stalker in Training, and The Hopeless Romantic—Really Hopeless. If you get good, you can combine all these into one epochal interaction that will be sure to leave the girl's head spinning.

Ladies: Be That Girl

You know, that girl...the one he talks to all his friends about and shudders. You can do it. Just follow this simple guide.

So, you're not that enthusiastic about meeting him, but he hasn't been deterred by your lukewarm response when he talks to you. You've canceled one date already because you decided to take a spontaneous trip out of town. You've canceled another date, citing a "bad mood." You've expressed your trepidations about getting involved with someone who lives so far away from you. But he's persistent and hasn't broken any of the rules, so, lacking any better options, you allow him to meet you for a first date and then a second.

But on the middle of the second date, you're still dreaming of the love of your life who is someone else and wondering how you will escape this guy's determined grasp. You don't want to be that coldhearted ***** who ignores his phone calls, and you don't know how to express in words that it's not because he's ugly or gross or boring, but you just don't want to date him any more. What do you do? What do you do?

Well, when he tries to kiss you, let him for just a second, then tell him to stop. When he asks you why, start crying. When he tries to comfort you, cry harder. Apologize profusely for putting him in this position and berate yourself with gusto in between sobs. You may cease this behavior after 5-10 minutes. Even if he toughs out the date to the bitter end, you can rest assured that this will be the last. Be proud that you will go down in history as one of his most memorable dates ever.

Here comes the bitter old maid!

I survived another wedding last weekend. I put on a brave face for my friend on her big day, but the truth will out. And guess where it will out....

Hello, ever-listening Internet!

All these weddings are taking a toll on my sanity. I really do want my friends to be happy—it's just that watching them be so happy together while I'm so miserably alone is kind of like taking shrapnel in the vital organs. Every couple of months. All while never dropping the cheerful smile.

I think instead of getting little vials of bubbles and and a bag of snacks as a wedding favor, I should get a purple heart.

And with that said, I would like to lighten the mood with a little joke.

Have you ever noticed how single guys love to get all indignant about how other guys treat women? They "like" Facebook pages such as: "Real men don't hit their girlfriends," and go on and on about how they know how to treat a lady and what a shame it is that not everyone does. OK, maybe not all single guys do this, but one in particular got me thinking about it.

Not that I'm just here to disparage the single guys who think this way--I frequently find myself doing the female version of the same thing. For example, upon hearing about the ridiculous things some guys are forced to do to stay on their girls' good sides, I think, with a self-righteous sniff, "I would never act all jealous and controlling like that. I wouldn't get all huffy if my man forgot our anniversary. I wouldn't need some ostentatious and expensive diamond ring to show off my relationship status." Etc. Etc.

Yes, we low-maintenance ladies and self-anointed super-gentlemen are very confident in our relationship superiority. But ha ha, the joke's on us—we're the ones who are still single, while the wife-beaters and drama queens are happily taken. Maybe we should learn to be a little bit less considerate, and we'd find ourselves swarmed by potential mates!

Rules of Attraction

Recently, I told a friend that I have given up on dating entirely. While this is not a new development, our conversation did remind me about why I've made this rather self-defeating decision.

After a couple years of Internet dating, and even meeting up with some of the guys who have flagged me down on the street, I have had next to no success. This has mostly been because I just wasn't interested—also pretty self-defeating on my part, but it's not something I can help! I've rejected guys for a number of reasons, but probably the most common one and the one that's most deadly to a future relationship is a lack of physical attraction. Though this is somewhat superficial, let's face it: If the thought of kissing someone makes you cringe, dating them will never work.

Sometimes, an unattractive face grows on you over time, but time is one thing that blind dating does not afford. Generally, you are expected to make a decision about the other person after a single meeting that may be as short as one hour!

So! I'm still single because all men are ugly. But what makes them ugly? Well, that's (after a rambling 3 paragraph intro as always) the topic of this post. [Edit, October 25: No, all men aren't really ugly! That was hyperbole for comedic effect. I don't want to be responsible for causing anyone to get an inferiority complex.]

I read recently that generally people are attracted to people who look different from them (an adaptive trait to avoid inbreeding). This seems to be confirmed in my tastes. In terms of coloration, I'm pretty much a genetically watered-down Heidi. So it's not surprising that I go for men who are dark haired, dark eyed, and dark skinned.

Ooh la la!

I have pretty close-set, deep-set eyes, and my tastes run to guys with big, widely spaced girly eyes (but is this a reflection of evolutionary tendencies, or just a reflection of how much I hate my kind of eyes?). Although as soon as I bring this up, someone will say, "You're not fat!" I do, undeniably, have chubbier than average cheeks, and I am attracted to faces that have the exact opposite. All in all, it seems my genetic makeup dictates that I go for a distinctly alien mien.

Except when it comes to mouths. Along with my chubby cheeks, I was graced with tiny rosebud lips (a terrible combination), meaning that I prefer people with a wide mouth and a forest of teeth. Aliens do not have mouths at all.

While all these first-glance preferences can be superseded by a general rapport brought about by someone who charms me by following all the rules to dating Valerie, there is one physical preference that I just can't seem to shake: I only like skinny men. It doesn't seem to matter how long I've known someone or how much fun we can have together. It doesn't matter if he's the world's greatest conversationalist and we have every common interest two humans can have—if he's not at least as thin as me (on a fat-to-height ratio), I just can't seem to get interested romantically. This makes me feel like a superficial jerk, but all the guilt in the world can't persuade me to change my tastes.

This poses two problems. Firstly, it contradicts the genetic theory of attraction. While I imagine myself to be a blubbery elephant of a person, I have it on good authority (namely, everyone who talks to me) that "You're not fat!" And while one can question the veracity of that statement (it seems to explode reflexively out of anyone's mouth as soon as I mention being chubby, which makes me think they might still be saying it if I weighed 300 pounds), I also have it on statistical authority that I'm not fat. So if I were supposed to be attracted to my opposite, I should be ga-ga about heavier men. Secondly, since I'm statistically not fat and the majority of the American population is, this severely limits the pool of dudes who meet my exacting specifications. Especially when you factor in all the hard-to-find personality traits (which could be the topic of several additional posts, so I'm not even going to start) that I also prefer.

So what's an extremely selective girl to do? The answer is, stop going on blind dates. No point in spending your entire income meeting strangers for dinner, only to tell them, "Sorry, you're just too human for me." Therefore I will wait, averting my eyes from happy couples, glaring disdainfully at engagement ring advertisements, and choking back the tears at weddings, until that happy day when I can again fall in love with the wrong guy.

What becomes of the broken hearts?

Hearts are breaking every day. The remarkable thing about them is that they almost always recover. And so last night, while I was in bed half asleep, (having my new recurring nightmare about receiving strings of very important instant messages but being unable to comprehend them, and alternately) thinking deep thoughts, it occurred to me to wonder, what happens when hearts break? And what is the mechanism by which they heal?

Judging by my obsessive ponderings, the answer to this abstract and thoroughly metaphorical question is apparently crucial to know, so let's consider a few possibilities.

When hearts break, do they shatter like glass? Scattering in all directions, leaving shards to injure anyone who touches them? Must you repair them by hand, laboriously gathering up the pieces one by one, fitting them back together only with intense concentration? A broken glass can only be glued with special resins, and it will always bear visible cracks. Is a heart, once broken, also doubly fragile and riddled forever with the marks of its past ordeal?

Being of biological nature, perhaps a heart does not so much break as "suffer," exhibiting such symptoms as oozing blood, cell necrosis, and neurological pain. In that case it would heal all on its own, over time, but it would never be the same afterward. Are broken hearts like wounded flesh, disfigured, scarred, still working but crippled?

Broken bones are biological, too. Maybe hearts break like bones do--screaming agony followed by months of dull aching. Properly treated, a broken bone can't be detected from the outside, and I suppose the same holds true of a broken heart. But however undetectable, a broken bone is always broken. A little too much stress can fracture it again. And I suppose that holds true of a broken heart as well.

Wouldn't it be nice if hearts broke like Silly Putty? Stretch them to their breaking point, and they snap, with a satisfying little popping noise and crisp-looking edges that are so fun to poke at. But put the pieces back together, warm them up, and, voila! Brand new heart! Like nothing ever happened to it!

I guess any of these analogies are possible. It's all in how the heart's owner looks at things, and how selective their memory is. In any case, now that Valentine's Day is over, you can be spared any more of my depressive ponderings and my relentless search for the perfect metaphor for everything. Next post, back to your regularly scheduled facetiousness.

That four-letter word

Guess what's coming... it's every single person's favorite holiday! In honor of Valentine's Day, let's talk about love.

There are many types of love in this world, including the type that's a many-splendored thing and the type that makes the world go round, but the type I would like to talk about today is the type that's like a cocaine addiction--you know, the type that you keep pursuing even as you see it steal your appetite, tear you away from your work and everything else that used to be important, and generally destroy your life from the inside out. When you want it, you'll do anything to get it, and when you can't have it, you go stark raving mad. Ahh, love--it's so beautiful!

I spend a lot of time being in love, falling in love, being in love with falling in love, being mad at myself for falling in love, and generally ordering my whole life based on how much in love I am at any given moment.

There is, in fact, a song that says, "Thou shalt not fall in love so easily." You should listen to it. It's entertaining. I often think that I should take this song's advice, but I never do. Perhaps that's because my heart is a notoriously bad listener.

Whenever I see it running off on one of its flights of self-destructive fancy, I say to it, "Hey, Heart? I think that's a bad idea..." and it says, "HA! I laugh in the face of danger!"

I say, "Hey, Heart! Come back here and be sensible for once!" and it says, "No way! You're not the boss of me!"

In general, my heart seems to be pretty generous and caring, and would do just about anything for other people, but it seems to have a vendetta against me personally.

One of these days, my heart and I are actually going to agree on something. For now, is anyone looking for a bitter, heartbroken date to cry with you all through your Valentine's Day dinner? Perhaps we can compulsively listen to Christian Brown's "I'm Stupid" bonus remix (with electric organ! Bonus indeed!) together! Or let's get back at our errant hearts by stuffing their arteries full of all the cholesterol we can get our hands on! Look who's the boss now!

On dating online

Speaking of dating...
I just realized I have music from every one of my past significant others—except the one who was a music major. Interesting.

So, have you ever used an online dating service? Are you too embarrassed to admit it? These virtual lonely hearts clubs are treated with skepticism by the socially higher-functioning among us, but I figure they have their merits. How else are shy people like me going to find each other? I have met a few of my favorite people through dating sites (not that we're actually dating now or anything). But meeting people online definitely has its drawbacks.

Outside of dating sites, how do people meet each other? Maybe they are coworkers. They get to know each other through work, and then they start meeting each other outside of work. If they're in school, they obviously meet each other in class, then they arrange study groups after class, and then study sessions in dark janitorial closets after the school has closed. Or perhaps they start chatting on the subway and go home with each other's numbers. Later on, they meet for coffee. Sometimes one of them hollers at the other out the window of the car. People seem to think that's a good idea, but frankly I have my doubts as to its success rate. But the point is, there's an established sequence for things, and it involves a timeframe that spans several days, weeks, or maybe even months.

There is something about online interaction that makes people lose all sense of the proper romancing procedure. Let's say you're acting out scenario a: You're chatting with a new coworker you think is the bee's knees. After two minutes of getting to know each other, do you then strip off all your clothes and say, "Hey, whaddaya think? How would you like a piece of that?" So what makes people on dating sites think it's acceptable to send you nude pictures of themselves as soon as you're finished with the introductions?

How about scenario c: meeting on the subway. Let's say you're chatting with a stranger you think is the cat's pajamas. You tell them your name; they tell you theirs. Do you then say, "Hey, now that we know each other, let's have a hug!"? So why do people that meet you for the first time on a blind date want to start things out with an introductory embrace?

And why do they assume that they are going to want to spend hours and hours with you the first time you meet? I have recently talked to several people that I met online, with whom I've either planned and carried out, or merely discussed, an actual date. An overwhelming number of them (ahem, that is 2 out of 2. I'm easily overwhelmed) expressed disappointment with my plan to meet for dinner and then call it a night. They responded with things like, "I'd rather see you all three days," and, "Just dinner? Why not something afterward?" Why not spend all night together? Why not meet and then just never part?

Did it ever occur to these guys that I'm not such great company? Did they ever imagine that after having dinner, they might want to call it a night? I don't care if you think someone is the monkey's cufflinks based on a few emails and online chats; what's wrong with making sure you really like being around them before committing hours of your life into their hands?

Am I just cold and heartless, or are these guys just overenthusiastic? Either way, I think it's time to add another clause to Valerie's Guide to Dating Valerie:

5. You can't hurry love.
If you think you want to be with me, you have to be willing to take it slooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo - wait - what was I talking about?