As a little girl, being single on Valentine’s Day never frustrated or made me feel isolated; I got candy and cards from all of my classmates in a “mailbox” made from a decorated white paper bag. But now that I’m 21 being single on Valentine’s Day is equivalent to having the plague. Also, those chocolate roses from my dad have gone from being brag-worthy to embarrassing. It’s nice my dad remembers me but when girls are decorated in their jewels and sharing romantic stories on the 15th, it’s a little humiliating sharing that the only gift I got came from my daddy… again.
Life hasn’t dealt me a lot of “princes” so when I thought I found a man who was possibly worthy of prince status, I couldn’t help but try to make a memorable Valentine’s Day for myself. Since my Prince Charming was a co-worker, my fellow female co-workers decided to help me make the most of this love-filled holiday by switching shifts.
Two older teens (OK one older teen, one young cougar), alone at night for hours, maybe this would be the perfect setting for him to make a move. Everything was all set, when one of the co-workers who helped me arrange the night, backed out. My prince was no longer working on Valentine’s and I was back to working the day shift. I was so heartbroken that yet again I would be single and have another unmemorable Valentine’s Day that my chattiness turned into silence.
When the big day came, I reluctantly went into work trying to pretend I was not bothered I was working with the old (married) man and a negative older (married) female. I smiled and was courteous to everyone who came in and wished me a happy Valentine’s, but I couldn’t help but notice I held my breath every time the door opened. Was my prince going to come in with a big bouquet of roses and profess his love?
As I was wiping snow off skis, dreaming of all the different ways my prince would profess his love for me on this romantic day, I was tapped on the shoulder. My stomach dropped. “This is it,” I thought. I took a deep breath, smiled and slowly turned around to find a familiar face. But the face I was looking at was not the one I had been waiting for. It was the face of my female co-worker’s husband who wanted my help surprising his wife with a large bouquet of roses and a lunch date.
Disappointed the tap came from someone other than my prince, but still a hopeless romantic, I helped my co-worker escape for a fairytale filled afternoon. Although I was tempted to pull the plug on their little romantic escapade when my co-worker held a finger-made gun to her head when her husband arrived, expressing her frustration she had from the day so far. “For real?” I said to myself. If a guy ever brought me flowers at work on Valentine’s I would surely not act so unsophisticated and angry.
At 5 p.m. I punched out for the day, and hoped I would find my prince in the parking lot or maybe he would have left a note at my car. My thought was he didn’t come in because he didn’t want to tell me he liked me in front of our co-workers. But all I found were layers of snow and ice that needed to be scraped off before I could drive off.
Later that night, instead of jumping on to Facebook and possibly chatting with him, I maintained a “radio silence” so it wasn’t obvious I was date-less again. Plus I didn’t want to risk finding out he was getting all ready for a night out with another girl, which really would have put a cramp into my dreams of how the night would have turned out. Since this Valentine’s mishap I had a few other chances with this “prince” but have found planning romance doesn’t work; but I can’t stop dreaming, so here’s hoping this is the year I get a rose from a boy other than my daddy.