Celebrating Valentine’s Day - I Choose Me.

Well, well, well, if it isn’t February - the month of Super Bowl Sunday, The Oscars, and yes, most importantly, love. 

My first memory of Valentine’s Day was when I was 7 and my Dad surprised my Mom with a bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, and an adorably long written letter expressing his love and appreciation for having her in his life. They shared a little smooch as I watched them from across the living room, my own heart filling up with second-degree love. 

My second memory of Valentine’s Day was when I was a freshman at an all girls high school which just so happened to be located next to an all boys high school. On February 14th, the boys’ acapello group graced the halls of my high school in their preppy bow ties and Frankie Valie-like vocals, serenading the girls who were lucky enough to be chosen - i.e. their boyfriends bought them a “singing gram.” 

In these memories, I remember watching my Mom and the other girls at my high school as their faces lit up with joy, knowing that there was someone in their life that loved them very much, and better yet, expressed that love in a way that made them feel cherished. 

I thought, “One day, I, too, will be chosen and cherished.”

I longed for that moment. I dreamed about it; I talked about it with girlfriends; I watched chick flicks on repeat, visually preparing myself for my very own magic moment. 

And eventually it happened. I remember a few times when I felt like the luckiest girl since sliced bread, or however the saying goes. 

At 17, I had a handsome young man play Dave Matthews’ iconic song Crash on his guitar after taking me out for a seafood pasta dinner.

At 23, my boyfriend at the time ordered Chinese food and had a bottle of prosecco chilling for me when I arrived at his house in tears on Christmas Eve of 2013, the first Christmas I spent without my Mom alive. 

At 29, I had a very handsome green-eyed man warm a towel up for me in his dryer so I could stay warm after my shower. 

In these moments, I remember feeling like my heart was overflowing with those little sweetheart candies that said things like “Be Mine,” and “Hug Me.” 

I had been chosen by a man, and I felt ridiculously joyful. 

That is, until those moments ended. That is, until I was single again and back on my own. That is, until I was un-chosen.

Then my overflowing cup was suddenly empty. 

And after grieving a bit, I realized I had two options. I could keep looking for a man to fill up my cup again, or I could learn to fill it on my own. The revelation wasn’t wildly sexy, but it was true.

And so I started filling. I went on a journey exploring the things that made me feel chosen and cherished and loved. I started dating myself. 

Dancing to live music filled my cup.

Going to the movies filled my cup. 

Riding my bike filled my cup.

Blasting music in my apartment filled my cup.

Making my bed every morning filled my cup.

Reading books that inspired me filled my cup.

Doing work I loved filled my cup.

Writing self-loving messages on my mirror filled my cup.

Writing outside at my little stoop cafe filled my cup.

Trying new hobbies like tap dancing filled my cup.

Getting to know myself and choosing me over and over and over offered me something; It gave me an everlasting, nourishing relationship with myself, one that lives in the core of who I am, one that simply can never not exist. 

And so this Valentine’s Day, while many of my friends will dine with their partners and exchange heart-felt I love you presents, I will choose to enjoy the pleasure of my own company. 

I will choose me. And whether you’re single or married or trying to figure things out, I hope you choose you, too.