Valentine's Day ramble

Jumping off from this morning's roundup:

Pair all that with finding love being about luck (and not preparation for opportunities).

In any case, I wholeheartedly agree with these two pieces celebrating singledom and rejecting the myth of the other 'half,' because you're already whole.

The writer of one of the latter links--perhaps Laurie Penny--talks about how she partly felt the need to not be single before she could write what she did about celebrating singlehood. Although I've never refrained from at least accepting singlehood myself, part of that resonated. Being coupled shields you, maybe, from perceptions of defensiveness and denial/delusion on the part of people who can't appreciate singledom for itself.


This Valentine's Day, I'm seeing someone (who is out of town). It's early days and I'm not here to talk about the (nascent) relationship itself, which may or may not be a thing the next time you hear from me, an it doesn't change anything I'm about to say. I'm here to think out loud about how my experience meshes with all these thinkpieces, as well as my own ramblings over the past few months.

It's Valentine's Day and I've never cared less. I've always had a party to celebrate anti-Valentine's Day, mostly out of habit, but it also gave me something with which to associate the time of year other than not having a date with whom to celebrate it, not that I would have wanted to. That I didn't have a party this year--and I've never cared less this year--has nothing to do with my relationship status and everything to do with an all-consuming work deadline this past Friday. But it wasn't just the deadline or the instense hours put into making the deadline; it was the achievement. It was seeing something that we struggled with come together in very little time and challenging circumstances. It was the culmination of months of directly related work and years of 'preparation for the opportunity' without ever knowing the opportunity would arrive or what it would look like. It was 'you've come a long way, baby,' and it evoked in me the closing scene in 'Coco before Chanel'--I know I'm no Coco Chanel either in struggle or talent or success, but work with me--where, after everything she went through, she sits back with the satisfaction of achievement as the models walk in her creations.

Now, if you read any of my rambles over the next few months, this may sound inconsistent with this one:

After my last breakup, I wrote about how I'd come to appreciate "Manon Lescaut" and "Bonjour, Tristesse." I'd come to appreciate, years after reading those books in high school and college, respectively, and just not getting it, how being in love makes you prone to stupid, maladaptive behaviours. Being weight-obsessed does, too. I've also learned that you can't distract your way out of agony or attraction; work and fun help some, but they don't get to the root of the issue. Remember the media and public reaction diaper-wearing astronaut who drove to Texas to kill her romantic competition? They were shocked that an astronaut would do that. I'm shocked anyone would do that, but her being an astronaut doesn't take away from the fact that she's human and being in love makes you stupid. Love-induced self-destruction isn't just for losers.

That's still true. No amount of professional success or fulfillment can overcome the design flaw that is human emotion. I'm not in anyway suggesting that relationships don't matter or that feelings are numbed when you have other things going on; I'm saying that they don't define you either way. I could get into how, not only am I complete, but it is the complete me that makes this (nascent) relationship what it is. I'm seeing a man who sees me (apologies to Dar Williams). But the points I'm trying to make--similar to Penny's points--are that, yes, the man is great; yes, for the relationship to be healthy you have to be your own whole person; but--most importantly--the relationship doesn't change anything except the fact that you're in a relationship.

I harp on this because the extent of it has surprised even me. I've often written (and thought) about the importance to me of the people in my life--and I think I alluded to this in my posts (more apologies to Dar Williams) invoking 'the Blessings,' that when you're heartbroken you notice more--and maybe I thought that my intense appreciation for everyone in my life was a function of my singledom. That, since there was no singular focus, I needed this wide net of social support. But love is not a pie, and you don't have to shrink your love or appreciation for everyone else when there is a focal point for your affections. And I guess you do notice more, appreciate more, when you're in pain, but, as Dar notes in the same song, the best (blessings) are the ones you keep as you grow strong.

Allow me a silly example (of my own cognitive bias and its undoing): After my last breakup, I very intensely felt and appreciated every loving interaction, no matter how small (and some were big). Running into people at work--acquaintances that I didn't see every day--made me happy. Running into an old friend on the way to the bus to the airport, restored my faith in shrubberies before I knew about shrubberies. Being greeting warmly in Budapest by a mother and daughter I'd just met the day before on the same half-day tour series, filled me with joy. Having lunch with the tour guide, who turned out to be vegan (in Budapest! do you appreciate the odds!) further restored my faith in shrubberies. Running into some friends of mine I hadn't seen in years, just a couple of months ago when I was having a rough time, would have been amazing anyway but was even more so because I needed it.

I don't know what came first: naturally starting to emerge from my funk or starting to see this guy; I think they mutually reinforced each other even early on, when I was very cautious and kept my expectations low. What's really surprised me (and I'm still cautious and my expectations are still realistic) is the extent to which I feel like nothing's changed, except that there's this dude. I like him; I enjoy interacting with him; but I'm not a basketcase as I historically have been in early stages of relationships. And I think about him, but almost to my own amazement, I largely go about my day and get a shit-ton of work done and find joy in my friends and acquaintances and intellectual pursuits and professional accomplishments.