“For this was Saint Valentine's Day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate.”

For the past two weeks I’ve come across a barrage of survival guides designed to help singletons make it through the ever-so-challenging holiday that is Valentine’s Day. This is the day that is supposed to make you feel miserable because you lack that special pooh bear to send loverly flowers to your work (because it doesn’t count if others don’t see it, sort of an if a bear poops in the woods kind of thing) and recreate the perfect Zales moment just for you. Alas, whatever shall I do to make it through with no one to love?

While I have fallen victim to holiday-induced pity

parties, Valentine’s has never sparked any sort of sadness. Last year I explained that I’ve never taken the day as an assault on the single populous. I always had my own traditions that were completely disassociated with the romantic, mushy sentiments of the day. This year, the weekend was occupied with a visiting friend from high school. Unfortunately, this made it impossible for me to host the annual all-girls Valentine’s, but it still meant spending time with people who’ve unfailingly been a part of my life for more than ten years.

I’m not going to go into a detailed discussion of the origins of the holiday and how the martyred saint(s) actually had nothing to do with love. Nor am I going to offer up cheesy advice about how to endure this day that is so obviously going to destroy your soul as a single person if you aren’t careful. I can only suggest that you spend the day as it suits you.

Honestly, even though I think it’s absurd that Glamour, Comso, and the world at large all think being single requires a decisive game plan on Valentine’s Day, I get that it might be disheartening for some. So what? Let it be. If you want to watch a few romantic comedies and fully sulk in your singleness for one day, go ahead. (Just please for the love of all that is good in the world, do not

rent the god-awful “Love Actually” knock-off that is “Valentine’s Day.” Seriously, how can one movie suck so hard?)

I’m a firm believer that accepting those not-so-pleasant moments in life and letting them wash over you when need be is cathartic and healthy. Sometimes all you need is a good cry dammit. (Look at me going all Joyce Brothers; please take my counsel with a boulder of salt, I’m far from a licensed professional.)

On the flip side, don’t let the stigma associated with the day force you out of sorts. Just because a bevy of women’s magazines tell you that you are going to be depressed on this day, doesn’t mean you have to be. You (hopefully) don’t listen to them every time they come up with some fantastic (read: terrible) “Top Ten Ways to Leave Your Man Wanting More,” so don’t pretend they could possibly know more about your emotional well being and innermost feelings than you do.