So, happy Valentine’s Day weekend to myself. What’s everyone up to? It’s 2 PM on a Saturday afternoon, I’m in my pjs, eating a grapefruit, and listening to the only song I like by John Mayer - and it’s not even his, it’s the Free Fallin’ cover.
I’m laughing to myself as I start this newsletter - because I have absolutely no idea what to call it, or where we’ll all end up by the end of it.
But I just wanted a space where I didn’t have to overly think or dress up words.
So, here’s a list of things I put effort into in elementary school:
Resisting the urge to pluck my own eyebrows
Trying to get Richard H. / Ben M. / Victor C. / Anyone to like me
Having the best Valentine’s mailbox.
One iconic year in my life (second grade), my dad spray painted a Kleenex box white, and I covered it in different shades of pink heart-shaped post it notes. Very poetic for a 7 year old.
And as a shock to probably no one, I was not that popular with my bushy eyebrows and glasses. And so I was secretly thankful for the class rules that you had to give everyone a Valentine, and treasured the way Ben’s mom signed his name on his Power Rangers card.
Some other personal favourite Valentine’s moments:
When I got ghosted, got the flu, got my period, and spent the week watching Grace and Frankie on the couch.
Another year, I found out my ex was cheating on me, but I had already made reservations to eat heart shaped ravioli. And I’m pretty sure I still kept those reservations because I have a picture of those heart shaped raviolis with the stupid oregano sprinkled on top archived somewhere.
And looking back, I’m more annoyed at the fact that I chose to go to a place where they sprinkle oregano on your pasta. An off- brand moment, but anyways.
I still love this holiday. As chaotic as it always is.
There’s some sort of truth and creation that’s forced to come out this time of year. I love seeing men carrying multiple bouquets of roses, I love the heart shaped doodles on cards and wondering if they’ll be filled up on both sides, and also wondering whose going to start a fight after they open up a card to only 2 sentences.
I love cinnamon hearts. I love colour blocking pink and red, because it reminds me of YSL and my iconic mailbox. I love the number 14, because my birthday is also on the 14th.
But I hate boxes of chocolate because I’ll eat one, put it in a cupboard and forget about it. I also hate heart shaped balloons (or any balloons for that matter), because they remind me of the tacky airport balloons that always cause a scene.
Maybe I love the expression and how, on one day of the year, everyone is kind of required to tell someone that they love them.
Even if that someone is your best friend who knows you’re obsessed with them by the amount of times you message them about your breakfast / your dream last night / your ex / your ex who was in your dream last night / nothing / everything.
Or even it’s your two cats, both of which have very specific times of the day of when they need to be cuddled or else you’re not allowed to live your life.
But you know who’s always the MVP of my chaotic, drama induced (maybe I’m the drama) Valentine’s Day? My dad.
He brings me flowers every year. This year it was those sunset coloured tulips. It’s usually orchids, but for some reason, I manage to kill them.
I started Failing Gracefully a few Valentine’s ago. When I was 19, my mom took us to see Les Mis on Broadway, and it was the first time I ate heart shaped pizza at Eataly.
Ugh, sometimes I hate newsletters for this reason. I have to stop at like, 300 words or else people dwindle off.
Before I go - you know what else I always love? The truth. And I really feel like we should tell people we love them more.
Or maybe I just want people to tell me that they love me more often.
Just without balloons.
Ciao for now,
xo
Emaisy