Ah, Valentine’s Day. Fifteen years ago—before I met my incredible husband—was a really rough time for me in the ways of love. I was in my mid-thirties, always the bridesmaid and never the bride. At least three prior engagements hadn’t “worked out” and my family found it funny to call me “The Runaway Bride” because—to make a long story short—I was picky.
Anyway, my go-to way to handle stress/anxiety has always been humor. Thus, after the umpteenth time my family had something snarky to say about me being single “at my age” I riffed off this funny little poem.
Hey, I made myself laugh. That’s all that counted, right?
I’m certainly no poet, and this is all just for a chuckle. So for those still searching for love, who also find Valentine’s Day stressful, I hope this makes you smile.
***And yes, I updated it a smidge since dating sites change.
Twas the Night Before Valentine’s
…by Kristen Lamb
Twas the night before Valentines, and all through the land
The poor single people were wringing their hands
Handcuffs were hung by the nighties with care
Near the lotions and chocolates and lace underwear.
A day made by Hallmark to sell lots of stuff
Pushing candies and kittens and kisses and fluff
A day that makes “single” a social disease
Like bubonic or typhoid or chiggers or fleas
And that fat baby Cupid must be on the take
Paid in layers of cash stuffed in red velvet cake.
Love songs are played on every last station
As “mush” takes over our entire nation.
Now not that we’re jaded, us single-type folk
We’ve tried Tinder and Match, and Equally-Yoked
Suffered parks and clubs and churches and bars
And a handful resorted to wishing on stars.
Like most other people, we long for a mate
Who gets all our jokes and steals fries off our plate.
Maybe we’re picky, world-weary, or fussy
Since we won’t date just any Joe Schmo or hussy.
We want someone smart, attractive, and sweet.
Hey, just cuz we’re single doesn’t make us minced meat.
We do not begrudge the romance of others
The passion of courtship, the heat between lovers.
Before you judge our singular state
Think back to the days when YOU had to date.
Tomorrow we’ll stand in the grocery store line
Behind the new boyfriend with too little time
With his “Get-Well” bouquet cuz he waited too late
To score the red roses to give to his date.
Hallmark has trained us to scurry and dash
Into boutiques and florists with fistfuls of cash.
For stuffed little critters with a lap full of love
And boxes of chocolate morsels from Dove.
Yet, Singles won’t stand hours waiting to dine
On elf food with garnish and overpriced wine.
No chocolates with abnormal tropical middles
Or angst about thighs that may wiggle and jiggle.
No staying in bars desperately late
Trying to connect with a last-minute date.
So embrace your status and shout it out loud.
Yes, I am single! Single and Proud!
Best Valentine’s Day experience? Worst?
My worst experience was back in the early 2000s. At the time, I traveled for sales and New Orleans was part of my territory. My then-fiance thought he’d surprise me and take me to Mardi Gras…except, being on the spectrum—which I didn’t know I was at the time—I could not take large crowds and that much sensory overload. Still can’t. It absolutely unstitches me.
I did TRY to join the celebration…and had a panic attack. With so many people and all the noise, lights and smells? NOPE. Though a very thoughtful Valentine’s plan on his part, I rushed back to my room and would only watch the parades from the window.
My BEST Valentines was when I met Hubby and my cat, Roobee—who hid from everyone but me—fell madly in love with my then-boyfriend. She kept bringing him hair bands all day! She’d pile them in the floor in different patterns then howl until he came and petted her and told her how amazing her “art” was.
Then, he’d leave and she’d rearrange them in a DIFFERENT pattern and yowl until he came running…which he did every time.
When he went into his room, she’d piled hairbands all over his pillow.
Roobee was with me 21 years and with us for 13 years of our marriage. Hubby took care of her in old age and he held her, weeping, when she passed. When he returned from the vet with her ashes and a paw print, all that remained in the bathtub where she’d last been sleeping was a towel…and one single hair band.
If THAT isn’t a great love story, what is?
What Are Your Thoughts?
Is this a holiday you enjoy? If so, why? I KNOW I have some romance authors here who are experts in this area. Do you have a favorite Valentine’s Day tradition? Or, are you like I used to be? You just lay low for that two weeks until everyone decides green beer is a great idea.