Best Valentine's Day Ever...

(and least sexiest)

Having spent the week delivering soup to my flu-infected spousal equivalent, I was not surprised when I awoke on Valentine's Day with a sore throat. The illness was disappointing considering all of the expectations for a first V Day with one's partner. Instead of roses, there was a bouquet of Kleenex. Instead of chocolate, there were boxes of Airborne. Instead of a sexy red dress, flannel pajamas were the evening's fashion. In spite of the outward signs, we insisted on trying to make something happened. And so it commenced.

Upon arrival at my somewhat sicker boyfriend's place, we gazed into each other's watery eyes and said lovingly, "let's not go out." The evening thus declined into a dreary sitcom. We coughed and sneezed on each other, ate a $5 take-out pizza, watched "Who Killed the Electric Car" (excellent, by the way), and discussed what vitamins would triumph over this version of the plague.

The first Valentine's Day is supposed to be a romantic climax. There are legends of apartments drizzled in rose petals, pots of chocolate fondue, and loving words spoken through the night. While I never expected the moon, I certainly wouldn't have minded a bit of Parisian romance. Instead, we were saddled with a heavy dose of reality. It wasn't terrible. We had a good time laughing at each other and remarking on our pathetic state. Our Valetine's Day was not a Hallmark facade of pink hearts and candy, but was a humble mark of care and devotion. Perhaps that in itself is sexy...

solo journeys

Haiti was heavenly, as always. I am so grateful for the opportunity to travel, see friends, and learn more. The chance to be with others in a cross-cultural setting raises my awareness of what I consider "normal", necessary, and comfortable. Those moments when I think, "EEKkk! Get me out of here!" Then I wonder what's at the root of this. Generally, it is my own ignorance about a particular way-of-being. Energy is quickly drained when surrounded by lots of new.

Part of me relishes the opportunity to travel and reflect alone, yet part of me is grateful for travel companions. It is good to compare impressions. At home, most of my time is spent surrounded by people, so moments of solitude are sought-after. Time in Haiti is a chance to step away from the constant chatter, to savor quietness and revel in my own reflections.

These things being said, it is interesting to me that, while still single, I struggle with the dance between the need for space and the need for intimacy. After 28 years of mostly alone-ness, being in a relationship takes quite a bit of humility and flexibility. And, though I complain of not having enough time to myself, I am actually tired of being alone. I am worn down by years of figuring it out by myself. I am jealous of those who can make team decisions. I am frustrated by my lack of competency in certain areas of life... places where one's partner might fill in the gaps... It is impossible to coordinate the many details of life alone. No one person can be an expert in car repairs, finances, house repairs, cleaning, decorating, cooking, and childcare. (Let it be said here that it is ridiculous to jump into relationship to meet only those fears/needs. I do not advocate unhealthy, codependent pairings that promote clinging, whining, and/or desperation.)

As I stand on the brink of another "new" thing, I wonder where the road will lead. Will this be yet another chance for me to prove how great I am at adapting? Will this be yet another chance to see how quickly friends can be found? Honestly, I'm exhausted considering it. Going to Haiti by myself is far less unnerving than the uprooting that stands before me.

I'll keep you posted.