t with someone, you're no one; you must not be worthy if you cannot attain and/or sustain a relationship.

I'm proof positive that's just not so. But when I think back to my grade school days when the other boys and girls were gleefully reading each coveted Valentine's card as I sat at my desk, lonely and alone, and to my high school days, watching sweethearts be sweet with each other and wanting that too, the memories of how I felt during those times wash over me anew.

When we don't receive Valentine's gifts, we're made to feel no one loves us, or cares for us. Even for a hermit like me, it feels good knowing that maybe someone cares. But I don't need a hastily bought gift or wilted flowers, or a generic card that a million other women will also receive to let me know someon

I'll be honest. I hate Valentines Day with a royal passion. I always have. I guess it started in grade school when all the kids would exchange valentines cards- you know, those little cards that say To: and From:

I seldom received one and I never really gave any away, either. At that young and impressionable age, to not receive Valentines cards, is it any wonder so many adults have relationship and self esteem problems?

During my teen years, there were the usual high school sweethearts walking through the halls, holding hands, sharing lockers, spending every free moment together, cheering each other on in their separate after school activities. Sure, I dated a few guys. Some really cute ones. But it never felt right.

As teens, we don't know enough about the world, or ourselves for that matter, to fully understand that it is okay to be alone; we do not have to be constantly linked to another being to define ourselves as a person. Unfortunately, society has other ideas and too many young people are gullible enough to believe those ideas.

I made it through my teens having received few Valentines, though I so wanted something- anything! By the time I turned nineteen and joined the Army, all I wanted was someone to be with; someone for me.

Years later as I look back in reflection, I ask myself why I wanted someone so bad. The answer I kept coming back to was that I had not taken the time to really get to know me.

In the Army, I met a fellow soldier. During those first few months, I really adored him and wanted to marry him. We hit a rough patch, and he went back to an old girlfriend. My feelings for him began to wane, partly because we were on separate Army posts, and partly because I was finally beginning to learn about myself.

When his relationship soured, he came back, and I did take him back. I found I still loved him, and still wanted to marry him, but at that point, I would have married Hugh Heffner had he asked.

We married, and our relationship changed in that moment. Four months later- our first Valentines as husband and wife- found us simply exchanging token cards and grunting at each other, even though I was pregnant with our first child.

Fast forward, three years and another child- and woman- later, and we divorced. I was so relieved! Sure, I was hurt at being so easily replaced but by then I realized I really didn't want to be married to him, or anyone.

Still, as each inevitable roll of the calendar to yet another Valentine's Day, I found myself feeling down, hurt, sometimes angry, fed up. Why, I would ask myself- why? I had determined since my divorce, and several subsequent failed short relationships, that I prefer to be alone, and that, due to the high strung and insanely neurotic and jealous person I am, need to be alone- and stay alone. I need solitude to sort through the constant chaos which swirls never-ending through my mind, and to have to worry about someone else and what they're doing, well... no thanks.

So why do I hate Valentine's Day so much? The answer is quite simple, really.

Society dictates that relationships are everything. If you aren't with someone, you're no one; you must not be worthy if you cannot attain and/or sustain a relationship.

I'm proof positive that's just not so. But when I think back to my grade school days when the other boys and girls were gleefully reading each coveted Valentine's card as I sat at my desk, lonely and alone, and to my high school days, watching sweethearts be sweet with each other and wanting that too, the memories of how I felt during those times wash over me anew.

When we don't receive Valentine's gifts, we're made to feel no one loves us, or cares for us. Even for a hermit like me, it feels good knowing that maybe someone cares. But I don't need a hastily bought gift or wilted flowers, or a generic card that a million other women will also receive to let me know someone

urselves for that matter, to fully understand that it is okay to be alone; we do not have to be constantly linked to another being to define ourselves as a person. Unfortunately, society has other ideas and too many young people are gullible enough to believe those ideas.

I made it through my teens having received few Valentines, though I so wanted something- anything! By the time I turned nineteen and joined the Army, all I wanted was someone to be with; someone for me.

Years later as I look back in reflection, I ask myself why I wanted someone so bad. The answer I kept coming back to was that I had not taken the time to really get to know me.

In the Army, I met a fellow soldier. During those first few months, I really adored him and wanted to marry him. We hit a rough patch, and he went back to an old girlfriend. My feelings for him began to wane, partly because we were on separate Army posts, and partly because I was finally beginning to learn about myself.

When his relationship soured, he came back, and I did take him back. I found I still loved him, and still wanted to marry him, but at that point, I would have married Hugh Heffner had he asked.

We married, and our relationship changed in that moment. Four months later- our first Valentines as husband and wife- found us simply exchanging token cards and grunting at each other, even though I was pregnant with our first child.

Fast forward, three years and another child- and woman- later, and we divorced. I was so relieved! Sure, I was hurt at being so easily replaced but by then I realized I really didn't want to be married to him, or anyone.

Still, as each inevitable roll of the calendar to yet another Valentine's Day, I found myself feeling down, hurt, sometimes angry, fed up. Why, I would ask myself- why? I had determined since my divorce, and several subsequent failed short relationships, that I prefer to be alone, and that, due to the high strung and insanely neurotic and jealous person I am, need to be alone- and stay alone. I need solitude to sort through the constant chaos which swirls never-ending through my mind, and to have to worry about someone else and what they're doing, well... no thanks.

So why do I hate Valentine's Day so much? The answer is quite simple, really.

Society dictates that relationships are everything. If you aren't with someone, you're no one; you must not be worthy if you cannot attain and/or sustain a relationship.

I'm proof positive that's just not so. But when I think back to my grade school days when the other boys and girls were gleefully reading each coveted Valentine's card as I sat at my desk, lonely and alone, and to my high school days, watching sweethearts be sweet with each other and wanting that too, the memories of how I felt during those times wash over me anew.

When we don't receive Valentine's gifts, we're made to feel no one loves us, or cares for us. Even for a hermit like me, it feels good knowing that maybe someone cares. But I don't need a hastily bought gift or wilted flowers, or a generic card that a million other women will also receive to let me know someon

patch, and he went back to an old girlfriend. My feelings for him began to wane, partly because we were on separate Army posts, and partly because I was finally beginning to learn about myself.

When his relationship soured, he came back, and I did take him back. I found I still loved him, and still wanted to marry him, but at that point, I would have married Hugh Heffner had he asked.

We married, and our relationship changed in that moment. Four months later- our first Valentines as husband and wife- found us simply exchanging token cards and grunting at each other, even though I was pregnant with our first child.

Fast forward, three years and another child- and woman- later, and we divorced. I was so relieved! Sure, I was hurt at being so easily replaced but by then I realized I really didn't want to be married to him, or anyone.

Still, as each inevitable roll of the calendar to yet another Valentine's Day, I found myself feeling down, hurt, sometimes angry, fed up. Why, I would ask myself- why? I had determined since my divorce, and several subsequent failed short relationships, that I prefer to be alone, and that, due to the high strung and insanely neurotic and jealous person I am, need to be alone- and stay alone. I need solitude to sort through the constant chaos which swirls never-ending through my mind, and to have to worry about someone else and what they're doing, well... no thanks.

So why do I hate Valentine's Day so much? The answer is quite simple, really.

Society dictates that relationships are everything. If you aren't with someone, you're no one; you must not be worthy if you cannot attain and/or sustain a relationship.

I'm proof positive that's just not so. But when I think back to my grade school days when the other boys and girls were gleefully reading each coveted Valentine's card as I sat at my desk, lonely and alone, and to my high school days, watching sweethearts be sweet with each other and wanting that too, the memories of how I felt during those times wash over me anew.

When we don't receive Valentine's gifts, we're made to feel no one loves us, or cares for us. Even for a hermit like me, it feels good knowing that maybe someone cares. But I don't need a hastily bought gift or wilted flowers, or a generic card that a million other women will also receive to let me know someon

I realized I really didn't want to be married to him, or anyone.

Still, as each inevitable roll of the calendar to yet another Valentine's Day, I found myself feeling down, hurt, sometimes angry, fed up. Why, I would ask myself- why? I had determined since my divorce, and several subsequent failed short relationships, that I prefer to be alone, and that, due to the high strung and insanely neurotic and jealous person I am, need to be alone- and stay alone. I need solitude to sort through the constant chaos which swirls never-ending through my mind, and to have to worry about someone else and what they're doing, well... no thanks.

So why do I hate Valentine's Day so much? The answer is quite simple, really.

Society dictates that relationships are everything. If you aren't with someone, you're no one; you must not be worthy if you cannot attain and/or sustain a relationship.

I'm proof positive that's just not so. But when I think back to my grade school days when the other boys and girls were gleefully reading each coveted Valentine's card as I sat at my desk, lonely and alone, and to my high school days, watching sweethearts be sweet with each other and wanting that too, the memories of how I felt during those times wash over me anew.

When we don't receive Valentine's gifts, we're made to feel no one loves us, or cares for us. Even for a hermit like me, it feels good knowing that maybe someone cares. But I don't need a hastily bought gift or wilted flowers, or a generic card that a million other women will also receive to let me know someon

t with someone, you're no one; you must not be worthy if you cannot attain and/or sustain a relationship.

I'm proof positive that's just not so. But when I think back to my grade school days when the other boys and girls were gleefully reading each coveted Valentine's card as I sat at my desk, lonely and alone, and to my high school days, watching sweethearts be sweet with each other and wanting that too, the memories of how I felt during those times wash over me anew.

When we don't receive Valentine's gifts, we're made to feel no one loves us, or cares for us. Even for a hermit like me, it feels good knowing that maybe someone cares. But I don't need a hastily bought gift or wilted flowers, or a generic card that a million other women will also receive to let me know someone does care for me.

And I certainly don't want- nor expect- anyone to dig deep in their pockets to remember they love me for one day, yet forget about letting me know that for the rest of the year!

When my animals lick my hand, and when my children wrap their arms around my neck and hug me tight, every day is Valentine's Day and that's all I need.