Valentine's day...(belated)

I woke up with absolutely no expectations of affection or a spoken I love you from a possible secret admirer. I wanted to treat V-day as any other day. I didn't want to take the bitter approach, or the Single Angry Black Woman route, so i thought it best to pretend the day didn't exist. But of course its not really possible. Once I stepped outside, my neighbors ENORMOUS heart flag was practically slapping me in my face whenever the wind blew. Every store and restaurant was adorned in every shade of Repulsive Red, and Putrid Pink (Crayola should think adding those colors to their 72 Crayon set. Just a thought) Every car I drove by was stuffed full of balloons causing people to drive like idiots speeding home. Little kids holding sweet cards tight to their chests, like it was precious gold. Walking proud because they can say "Mommy I picked it out myself" Good for you Kid. Now move out of the street.
Maybe my refuge could be found at the gym. It should be relatively quiet, leaving me to sweat, lift, lunge, treadmill, and bike in agony in my own privacy. I was right about one thing. It was a quiet day, but do you think I could escape the nauseating decorations? Of course not. Hearts hung from treadmills, and televisions. They even had the nerve to have not one, but TWO baskets of Hershey kisses at the counter. I thought this was the gym? Are they trying to sabatoge all the hard work I just did? If I didn't have any sense I should have stolen the basket and let them follow my trail of foil wrappers to a bathroom stall where I was chocolate covered in a diabetic coma. Some nerve.
Home was my safe haven. My plan was this. Come home from the gym, Have a hot shower, wash my hair, put on some fresh PJ's, pop some corn, maybe indulge in come ice cream and watch my Season 2 Cosby show DVDs ( THANKS TOYA! LOVE YOU SIS). And maybe curl up with a good book. Beside the mass texts that I received all day, it was a a wonderful night. Simply put I was my valentine this year, and it was better than I thought it would be. I wasn't home thinking about why I didn't have someone to share the day with, I was just happy to be a single girl who found comfort on a day made to celebrate couples. After all you gotta love yourself, before you can love anyone else. Right?

Love?

Sometimes, the promises I make to myself come back to bite me later. I promised myself that if the writing bug buzzed I would stop what I was doing, and put it down on paper (or on screen). So that is what I'm doing. Before I get on my soapbox here's a lil bit of my day. My afternoon was perfectly planned. Last night I stayed up all night studying for my economics Exam (capital "E" on exam just to emphasize it's intensity) I saw the sun rise, and heard the ducks flying over head. Needless to say, my eye lids were dying to close by the time I wobbled to the front of the class to hand in my exam. My plan was this... Go home, find a sweet treat to indulge myself in (Vienna fingers), strip down to my bra and panties, put in a movie, and drift into sleepy town before my next class. But instead of a movie I chose Sex and the City Season 4 Disc 1. As usual, while I listened to Ms. Carrie Bradshaw rant about love and relationships I couldn't help but do the same.

This particular episode was about soul mates and questions if there really is "the one" out there for every person. I really don't know how I feel about the idea of one person meant for another. Destined to find each other in this massive world. To tell you the truth, some days I believe it, other days I'm as cynical as a Cathy cartoon. There has been too many times when I had elevated hopes in certain men, and I was left disappointed and unsatisfied. I haven't really written any blogs about love, for fear of sounding like a mad black woman, but cupid has some serious explaining to do.

I've been single for about a year now, and it's not an easy thing. I'm not that kind of person who NEEDS to be with someone at all times, But being in the setting that I am in makes it harder because I'm single and without any type of real male prospects. No more late night phone conversations, no movies, no one to even wink at. The only crop I have to observe is at church, and most of those men have wives, girlfriends, babies, or just AIN'T RIGHT!

But this idea of "the one" got me thinking? I've had a few boyfriends (or guys I've talked to for an extended period of time), and after a break up I have always just written them off as just not the right guy for me. BUT there is one, that I can't seem to get off of my mind. Periodically I can find myself thinking about him when I hear a song, or see a romantic movie. And in a very deep down, far off place, I reserve a hope that he will be the one. That somehow our paths will cross again, and fate will work its magic . I really try not to think about him, but it's something I just can't shake.

Maybe he is to me what Mr. Big was to Carrie. They were lovers, boyfriend and girlfriend, good friends, and enemies. It's a trip how love works. I wish I could just deem him as another bad partner, but there has to be something that is keeping me attached to the thought of "us". Does it mean he's "the one" or am I just hanging on to something that has already come and gone. Like trying to hold onto a wave, or a catch a sweet breeze. I have NO IDEA. I'm just letting the thoughts run out through my fingertips. I guess I'll see how it will play out on life's stage. I just know I'm ready to find my co-star.