Most Valentine's Days in my life have been Valentine-less. Before my mother died in 1994, she always sent me a Valentine, but almost no boyfriend was ever so inclined, except when reminded, and it'd be a little weird to get one from my son.
And you know what? I don't really mind. This is not a gripe session. It's more an opportunity to think about what it means to be my age (64 3/4), single, living alone, professionally and satisfyingly employed, enough friends to feel content, and no strong desire to be mated.
Oh, I joke around about wanting a boyfriend (though anyone who applied would certainly not be considered a "boy"), but when push comes to shove, I'm not sure I really do. Would I want to give up my independence? Would I want to have company all the time? Could I make the sacrifices necessary to sustain an intimate relationship?
I look at the successful couples I know and admire and I just can't see myself managing what they manage---the day to day compromises and negotiations, the need to accommodate a partner's needs and wishes, the obligation to give up a part of my life to a partner's life. I just don't know if I could do it, after 27 years of living single.
It may be that I have just gotten out of practice, that if I were in a relationship of trust and affection, I could do it with little difficulty. It worries me to think that I may have been wounded enough by my past experience with marriage that I can't get past that and be successful in another partnership.
Whatever the reason, I am, at this time, Valentine-less and still valid. I love and am loved and that is enough. At least right now.