ISO my ‘Lloyd Dobbler’

The blogosphere is full of the same, tired crap this Valentine’s Day. There are two camps spewing the same, unoriginal bullshit.

In one corner, we have the happy! in love! we celebrate our union daily! and this holiday is wonderful! camp. Then we have the it’s a Hallmark holiday! meant to torture singletons! I’m going to wear black! where’s the half-off candy bin? group.

In the interest of full disclosure, count me in the second group. But I don’t want to be. So hand over the candy and no one gets hurt. 😉

In a high-school anthropology class, the instructor gave us a brilliant magazine article called “You don’t bring me flowers.” It was an opinion piece, written by someone who abhors the holiday about as much as getting a root canal done, about how absolutely stupid it is to send and receive flowers. But, he concluded, maybe he wouldn’t mind the flower thing so much if someone would actually SEND him some.


You know why I hate the holiday? Because nobody gives a shit if I have a good one. Period.

It’s the thing that goes unarticulated by masses of singles as well as coupled-off people who claim “we don’t need to celebrate once a year” yadda yadda bullshit. They’re the same people who wouldn’t exactly turn away a delivery boy with an armload of roses and stargazer lillies.

I’ve told you before about my Valentine’s Day curse and the suckage it yields every year. It’s the same thing with Christmas and birthdays — when other people are surrounded by family, friends and lovers and doing the togetherness thing, I’m usually by myself. Is it by choice? Yes and no. Yes I’m too busy to really go out to meet people and no, I’ve had it with timesaving methods like meeting online and/or parking my ass at a bar and hoping for the best. I buy myself something on each of those days because there ain’t nobody else clamoring to show me that my existence means a thing to this world.


A couple of us had a joke that we’d be singing that beloved Kelly Clarkson ditty today, and yes, I heard the dance remix of it in the car this morning (purely accidental — honest! I had my random shuffle on). OK, I played it twice. But anyway, I don’t wish for any of my exes. They’re all lovely people (and some just have redeeming qualities that I for the life of me was unable to discover, but lord knows I tried). I do remember the last time I gave myself to someone completely, and well, pfft. That went well. (hah)

I closed myself off after that, and I subconsciously sought the most emotionally or otherwise unavailable people who walk this hallowed earth. Or maybe they found me. Whichever — all I know is that I can walk away on a moment’s notice, mostly because I figure they’re detached enough to do the same.

Mom and I were talking yesterday and she advised that I just need to get laid already. Um, duh. 😉 But I told her I am so OVER that shit, you know? I am so TIRED of not caring or pretending I don’t. Not only do I want to find someone who doesn’t feel compelled to move on to someone else or nothing at all, but I also don’t want to run in the opposite direction, either.

And half of them have somewhere else to go when they’re done — not that you always get to know that and even if you did, it only compounds the feeling-like-hell-afterward thing. Greedy fuckers trying to take all they can get when others can’t even find one. But then again, I’d rather have one quality thing going than a myriad of half-assed endeavors.

I’ve done the emotionally detached, fuck buddy, “don’t call me” routine. It was the closest I’ve ever gotten to truly immersing myself in a moment, you know? It’s like legalized prostitution — anything goes. And if you don’t treat it that way, you’ve missed the point of it.

Conversely, I think we’ve all done that when one party might have wanted the other one to stay the night. But rules are rules — no can do. And chances are that you might have wanted them to stay only because the “before” and “during” were so good that you assumed there could be an “after.” But there can’t be. For each of you individually, with other people, of course — but not together. There should be laws against that!

That’s not to say that the next person I manage to entrap can or will be that “forever” person. I’m not ring-chasing — I’m just looking for someone for whom I might actually be inclined to wander into a card/gift shop … someone who will make me not want to rue the day Cupid was born. Someone with whom I might spend most if not all of the major holidays in a year — along with a million seemingly insignificant moments in between.

Because, really, that’s what we all want — someone to call or to hug or to confer … someone who will make every ordinary day into an occasion.


It goes back to the “nobody gives a shit if I have a good (holiday).” Many lesser-type beings run scared from holidays — I’ve said before that they get funky around Christmas, and we might as well lump in the Valentine’s/birthday extravaganzas as part of that rule. I don’t know if they just don’t want to buy a gift or tell you to have a nice fucking day, but their absence usually ensures that you’re walking around with a tiny hole in your heart while your colleagues have virtual gardens growing from their desks.

Reasonable singletons aren’t whining, “I want that!” We’re not materialistic assholes. Instead, we’re saying, “Gee, I wish someone were thinking of me today. And if they are, I wish they’d show it.”

Because I know someone is thinking of me. Maybe more than one. And maybe my mind isn’t absolutely devoid of activity either.

Perhaps I should be saving someone else from an equally nondescript day. Perhaps they might not be horrified to hear from me. Moreover, maybe they don’t know that I wouldn’t exactly mind hearing from them.

The person I’m looking for? Will make me not doubt myself, nor will they doubt where they can, do and SHOULD stand with me. And while I’m not necessarily wishing for every day to be like Valentine’s Day, I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to maybe looking forward to the holiday for a change. …

One Lonely Response to ISO my ‘Lloyd Dobbler’

  1. trouble :

    Or, you could just be socially retarded like me and start a fight with your almost perfect boyfriend that almost ends things and leaves you feeling like a complete creepazoid paranoid psychotic bitch.

    And here I was looking forward to it, too.

    Sometimes, life just sucks. And when it doesn’t, I generally do my best to f’ it up. 😉