Valentines Day, the aftermath

Being single in Sonoma on Valentine’s Day, to put it bluntly, sucks. I miss conversations under my half of the electric blanket with a partner at the end of the day. I yearn to plan trips with a special someone.

Still, I can’t imagine another human bumping around the bedroom or traipsing through my bathroom.

Oh, I know that neither being single or coupled is always easy. And I’m glad I don’t have to pick up someone else’s stuff around the house. But I miss listing the “honey do’s,” or even help finding the crazy glue for that loose screw on the bathroom cupboard.

Friends comfort me saying, “Oh, relationships are difficult.” But, on dating sites men want a woman who “wakes up smiling, is easy going, loves jumping on a bicycle and has no baggage.” That’s plain crazy. Everyone has baggage.

Single women want to be starstruck with guys in great shape, regardless of their own). They want sparks, chemistry. They’ll “know right away,” they say.  I say, what exactly did you learn if you’re still single?

So, what’s love got to do with it? I remember a “speed dating” group. The drill of questions: “What do you do? What do you like to do?” I felt like Daffy Duck talking too fast from anxiety. Rushing through the ordeal appealed to me though, since the ordeal of finding something to wear and meeting a stranger felt like wearing bifocal glasses and staring into a fishbowl. And with or without glasses, they seldom look like the picture they gave you. Not for 10 years or so, anyway.

There was a moment of hope with one tall gentleman who seemed excited about me until I told him I had dogs. His loud question: “They don’t sleep on the bed, do they?” ended that.

Valentine’s Day makes me wonder if single people are less patient. Are we too demanding? Why do we have Valentine’s Day, anyway when St. Valentine was murdered? Is that some sort of metaphor? And if all’s fair in love and war, then, why do we have more war than love? That’s not fair at all.

What’s love got to do with it? In 1950, four million American adults lived alone. Today, 41 million live alone – 28 percent of all households. For the first time in centuries, the majority of all American adults are single.

It seems to me that loving requires courage and an ability to work at it. In “The Fear of Flying,” Erica Jong says: “And the trouble is, if you don’t risk anything, you risk even more.” I remember when my mother was at the end of her days and hadn’t spoken to her sister Ethel for years. Then, one day, she took a deep breath and picked up the phone. They spoke tenderly and chuckled. Their judgments were dropped. That took guts.

Are we all too busy and afraid of being vulnerable? In the end, “the love you take is equal to the love you make.” After all, who is ever “in the mood” at the same time?

It seems like our world is far from love. But, maybe the fundamental need to love and be loved will finally propel our species to learn how to do it right. If the high divorce rate (60 percent)) reflects our predicament —  the tendency to criticize or withdraw — maybe loneliness will cause us all to learn to care.

I know a man who is so glad he stayed married now in his aging years, finding comfort in her helpfulness. I know a woman who met her heartthrob on a dating site at age 61. He’s her husband now, 10 years later. I know a guy who relocated here with his wife from Kansas, at age 69 and within weeks she died. He’s now happily remarried, via match.com. There are lots of stories, couples who reunite, argue and those that never fight.

Erich From wrote that ‘love’ has to do with “active concern” for the other. So, whether you’re hooked up or on the loose, keep practicing the art.  And if you need an example of how to love, watch your dog.

Katy Byrne MFT, Psychotherapist, writer, editor in Sonoma.