Valentine's Day for the Terminally Single 💘

Journaling lakeside while straight couples wait for brunch

Image by @bybobbybox

It’s 11:05 a.m. on the morning of Valentine’s Day, and I am sitting in a coffee shop attached to a lakefront restaurant. I come here many mornings to journal. I sit next to the window because, well… why wouldn’t I? But today is not like most mornings, because the line to get into the restaurant is filled with couples. Straight couples. Girls wearing sweaters with red hearts on them and a little too much blush. Guys doing their due diligence and praying that, in addition to getting some pussy, she’ll at least put it in her mouth tonight.

I am reminded of how painfully single I am.

Maybe I should walk around the restaurant and ask people if they’d like me to take photos of them for Instagram.

“Of course, it’s no problem! I have no man vying for my attention right now. Do you want it in landscape or portrait?”

“Ok. I took a few. Let me know what you think. I can do it again if you want.”

“Y’all are so cute. Happy Valentine’s Day. Don’t forget to cup his balls, girl!”

<throws a wink over the shoulder as I sashay away>

Am I imagining things, or was her man looking at my ass?

But in all seriousness — what is Valentine’s Day for the terminally single?

Honestly, it’s not even the “single” part that gets me today. It’s everything else. I feel like season one Lawrence from Insecure — not the unemployed part, but the “full of potential that hasn’t materialized yet” part. The guy on the couch with the big idea, putting in the work, but nothing to show for it that anyone else can see. But unlike Lawrence, I know this is a season, not a sentence. I’m not languishing. I’m just between things — between cities, between chapters, between whoever I was and whoever I’m becoming. Some days that feels like a choice I’m proud of. Other days it feels like sitting alone in a coffee shop on Valentine’s Day watching couples get brunch.

Both things can be true.

Wait — two fine ass men just walked into the restaurant. One Black, one Latin. The Black dude arrived first, and I swear we clocked each other. He smiled and then walked away like he was intentionally removing himself from a… situation.

Then he reappeared with his Latin cutie, and I really smiled. I knew it!

<writes my name and number on a napkin>

“Hi, I’m Tomik. If y’all are ever looking for a third, you should hit me up. Couples are actually my specialty. And both of y’all are fine. Happy Valentine’s Day. 💘”

<throws a wink over the shoulder as I sashay away>

So maybe that’s the answer. Maybe Valentine’s Day for the terminally single is this — sitting by a lake, journaling, making eyes with men who are seemingly unavailable, and going home alone feeling fine about it. Not waiting for love. Not avoiding it either. Just living in the weird, funny, in-between.

Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope you spend it with whoever or whatever you love.

xoxo,

tomik 💋