Singles Awareness Day

(Reprinted from Meridian Magazine, February 2012)

You didn't think I was going to let February 14 go by without acknowledging the most dreaded day of all singles, did you? Never fear, my single friends, I am here to commiserate with you! I will share my worst experience with you, but in return, I expect to hear your awful stories in the comments below.

I will never forget my worst Valentine's Day ever, but to say that indicates that somewhere along the way I have had a good Valentine's Day. The truth is, even on the years where I had a boyfriend on February 14, I've never had a good, romantic, worthy of recording it in my journal, or even just calling my best friend, kind of day. I've had pretty much nothing but really lousy Valentine's Days. (Unless you count the year I was going through fire-fighting school and I got to rappel down the side of a burning building, getting the best time in my class, as a good day.)

No, I've had some pretty rotten V-days. I'm one of those singles who would prefer to just sleep through the day, never being forced to see all of the people wearing pink and red, carrying flowers and balloons in the hallways at work, while giving cheery answers to questions like, “So do you have any fun Valentine's plans?” No, I plan to be at home watching NCIS and hanging out with my dog, just like I do on most Tuesday nights. The only thing different is this week I won't get to eat Indian take-out while watching TV, because I have to avoid all restaurants at all costs, so as to not be seen alone in my alone-ness. Which is stupid, quite frankly, because, I'm alone in my alone-ness all the time! I go into restaurants and eat alone pretty regularly. But no, once a year, all those gross lovey-dovey people have to go and ruin it for me, and I'm stuck at home eating Lean Cuisine instead.

But back to the worst Valentine's Day ever. I tell you this story at great risk to myself. I have no idea if the man involved will ever read this. I'm going to assume that he doesn't, since he's never told me so (but then, we haven't talked in 16 years, so I don't know that he would. And he probably won't now either). If you just happen to be that man, I hope you too can see the humor in this story now!

I was just barely nineteen at the time. One of those BYU stories of the girl that got engaged just six months out of high school to a guy she had only known a matter of weeks. But of course, not really engaged, just verbally engaged without a ring. Nonetheless, the point is, I had a significant other on Valentine's Day. I had expectations. I had dreams. I had very big plans. After all, we were just recently and verbally agreed to be married! I was owed a diamond! Me and my nineteen years of wisdom knew exactly how this day would play out, and it would end in a hugely, overly romantic love story to tell our grandchildren someday!

Obviously, that didn't happen.

What did happen is he had an exam that day. And I, being a college student with big wedding plans, had taken a temp job working in the BYU on-campus florist. (Exactly why does a university need an on-campus florist, by the way? If not only to further encourage silly college romances?) It was working at my temp job that day that I discovered just how wretched allergies can be, and that I am horribly allergic to many types of flowers. After eight straight hours of flower arranging, and being surrounded by all those (painful) pretty smells, I was in complete misery. However, let's keep it to the obvious facts here. I was also an overly romantic and sentimental mostly verbally engaged nineteen year old in a flower shop on Valentines Day. Do you see where I am going here? I may have actually woken up that morning still a somewhat reasonable person. By the end of my shift making other people's romantic gifts, I was expecting a 12 piece string orchestra, dozens and dozens of roses, a steak dinner, and more than one diamond ring. Wouldn't you?

I spent most of the money I earned that day right there in the florist buying him a gift and having it delivered. It was a teddy bear, a balloon, and some roses that I personally picked out and arranged. Because what red-blooded, American male college student doesn't want a teddy bear, balloon, and roses?

After work I went to my room and primped. For what? I didn't know. I just knew it was Valentine's Day and obviously the man who was verbally committed to giving me a diamond ring was going to be doing something grand. I waited and waited. And my allergies and sinus infection grew worse and worse, not helped by the two dozen roses my roommate had received taking up real estate in our tiny room. Finally my phone rang saying I had a delivery at the front desk. Expecting nothing less than a limousine and other fantastic gestures I ran downstairs.

And picked up another dozen roses some guy had sent my roommate.

I returned to my room, checked my messages to make sure I hadn't missed my beloved's call (I hadn't), and resumed my flights of fancy.

The phone rang again.

I ran back to the front desk.

Where I found the teddy bear, roses, and balloon I had sent my significant other waiting for me. The delivery guy had sent it to the wrong person. Oh and the receipt was still attached. I took the receipt off and had them call the right person. And returned to my room.

I kid you not, I walked in the door and the phone rang again.

Back to the front desk.

Another dozen roses for my roommate.

Where was my roommate you might ask? Out on a date with her boyfriend, who was not the bequeathor of the now four dozen roses in my tiny little dorm room. Also, I was starting to resent my roommate just a little bit. Yes, I had that kind of roommate who just got dozens of roses randomly sent to her by men she barely knew. And yet, I still loved her anyway.

For several more hours I sat there patiently in my room, my head throbbing with a sinus infection, blowing my nose, getting sicker by the minute. It was 10pm before he called.I almost didn't answer it because I was convinced it was going to be the front desk calling with an entire rose garden for my roommate.But it was my mostly betrothed, so I went down to see him, Kleenex and all.

He thanked me for my cute little gift, and told me all about his big exam, and how it had taken all day. He finally noticed I was sick and offered me back the teddy bear I had given him. “The bear? The stupid little bear? I don't want the bear! Just give me my stinking engagement ring!!!” was sloshing with rage through my very congested head.

Did I mention we were in a classroom? We were two car-less college students without a lot of options. A lot of our “dates” were just sitting in empty classrooms or study rooms talking.

So there we were- me with the worst sinus infection in history bubbling out of my nose, and him with that dumb bear I gave him. He finally reaches into his backpack and tells me to close my eyes and put out my hands. I only put out my left hand, palm down. He turned my hand over and put a plastic take out container in it before I opened my eyes.

A frosted sugar cookie.

But not just any frosted sugar cookie. A broken frosted sugar cookie with “Be Mine” iced onto it.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was expecting an engagement ring, and I got a broken cookie.

Did I mention I hate sugar cookies?

He explained it got smashed in his backpack, and the frosting smeared a little bit. Yes, yes, I could see that.

And that, my friends, is the only time, ever, in nearly 20 years of dating, that a significant other has given me something on Valentine's Day. Sure, I've had other boyfriends on that date, but none of them have ever given me something or done anything nice for me on that day.

I've learned my lesson about getting my hopes up, or thinking men are ever on the same page as women when it comes to romantic expectations. But more importantly, I still have hopes. I still think that maybe someday I'm going to have a good February 14. Maybe even have a date on Valentine's Day- wouldn't that be amazing? I still think that in spite of twenty years of not meeting Mr. Right that one day it will finally happen. I won't be waking up on Valentine's Day thinking the floral delivery truck is going to be in my driveway with roses from a mysterious admirer. But I do think that maybe someday I will meet a guy who will give me a rose or dozen. (In 20 years of dating, it has only happened once.) I'm not ready to give up yet.

But until then, I'm avoiding all restaurants and public places on the day I am convinced was designed to make single women feel bad about themselves.

Are you with me? Share your “Singles Awareness Day” stories with me!

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You Heard It Here First (book 1 in the Haley and Cam Series)

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The Agency: a biographical workplace novella

Single Mormon Woman Shares All

Earlier this week I wrote a piece for Meridian Magazine entitled "Where are the Role Models for Single Women?" Today I read a great piece in the Washington Post, "Some people never find the love of their lives. And live to tell about it." It is accompanied by the results of a fascinating survey about single life.
As a Single Mormon Woman I found that I could relate to much of the article, but less so to the survey results. Very rarely were my answers the same as the majority of answers. I believe this is partially due to my Mormon background, as well as my discomfort with my current financial and professional situations (which, yes, are improving, but are far from perfect). It is possible that if those two areas of my life were more stable and secure that I may have different answers.

Yesterday something very interesting happened to me. I have lived in Roanoke for nearly two years, and for the first time since moving here I was invited to a social event [that wasn't with my family members]. Yes, for the first time in nearly two years, I got invited out to play. At first I was just happy to be invited and to attend. It wasn't until a few hours before the party that it hit me- I'm the only single in this town. I'm going to a party that will undoubtedly be all married couples- and me. I've been in these situations before and they can be downright miserable when you are the third wheel. However, I thought about it, and knew that it was very likely that the other guests would all be couples I am friends with. I went to the party, and I had a good time. I was very grateful that someone would think to invite me, rather than exclude me just because it might be strange to have that one single girl there in a room full of couples. Because heaven knows, we singles do get left out often enough because we don't have a spouse.

With all of that in mind, I'd like to expand a little bit on what I read in Meridian, and reference the Washington Post article, as I make a few more points. I have inserted more thoughts throughout the piece below than just what originally ran on Meridian. I have not indicated when I have not done that.


What the Young Woman Lesson Manual Said
“Invite an exemplary sister (preferably one who has married in the temple and has a family), who has been approved by priesthood advisers, to speak to the young women about the joy of being a woman. Ask her to relate some joys and challenges she has experienced, including some when she was the age of the young women in the class. She might tell about specific experiences and choices that helped her stay close to Heavenly Father and the blessings and joy that resulted. She should emphasize the joy of being a woman at every age. Suggest that she take about twenty minutes. Ask her to allow time for the young women to ask her questions and express their feelings.
“OR
“You may invite a grandmother, mother, and young married woman, who have been approved by priesthood advisers, to briefly express the joys of womanhood they are presently experiencing. You might suggest that they also mention joys they experienced when they were the age of the young women. Stress to each that she is allowed only five or six minutes. You might offer to time them and signal when their time is up.”

What I (the single, never married, young woman adviser) Heard-
Single women are not impressive. And we don’t want girls to think single women are role models. Oh and apparently a man is needed to determine what a good woman is, women can't figure that out for themselves.


This is copied, verbatim, from the Young Women Manual, Lesson 5: Finding Joy in Our Divine Potential. And it was the lesson taught this past Sunday to young women around the world. It even included a sub-heading “We Can Experience Joy at Every Stage of Life.” I’m just curious, did anyone remember to include the “stage” of being single? Did anyone explain to the young women how this stage is not the same as your college years? Didn’t anyone mention that while we hope and pray they get married, and have a family, that statistically speaking that for 50% of them “single” wouldn’t be a “stage” of life, it would be how she will spend her entire life?

No? No one. I’m not surprised.

Who Will Be My Role Model?
For the past few years I have used the following description in my professional writing biography, "Erin Ann is equal parts Mother Teresa, Anne Shirley and Carrie Bradshaw.” This description has been met by a few to great criticism. What was an LDS woman doing describing herself with a Catholic nun and as the fictional character from “Sex and the City?” Let me explain- they were single women I could relate to. Carrie Bradshaw was a single woman in her thirties, a writer, and looking for love. In that respect I had a lot in common with her. Of course if someone were to make a sitcom about my life it would probably have the less than tantalizing title "No Sex in the Suburbs.” I may not be Carrie Bradshaw in many respects, but I can definitely relate to her.

Singles Awareness Day (aka Valentine's Day)

"Valentine's Day is that time of year when married people pretend to be happy, and singles pretend they are not."

I have been blogging for about 7 years now. And apparently I have never once blogged about Valentine's Day before. I double checked today just to be sure. However, I did post this totally awesome picture of my brother once on a Feb 14.

Confession: I am 36 years old and I've never had a good Valentine's Day. In fact, I can only think of two times in history where I was in a committed relationship on V Day. Once was in college, and I was in more than just a committed relationship. I was actually engaged. I worked part-time in a florist that year. I spent days blowing up balloons, and tying them off till my poor little fingers were raw. Not to mention wrapping order after order of roses. I had high hopes that year for a good V Day present.
But oh no.
It was spectacularly bad. Monumentously bad.
First, my significant past other had a night class that day, and an exam. So he had conveniently forgotten about the big red candy heart holiday that was consuming campus.
Next, I sent him a teddy bear holding roses. (Forgive me, I was 19, worked in a florist, and was quite stupid.) The dorm delivery guy screwed up and delivered it to ME. My poor little expectations had gotten so high when the dorm director called and said there was a package downstairs for me. I ran down to get it, convinced it was going to be my engagement ring (we were one of THOSE BYU couples- engaged with no actual proposal or ring). And there was the stupid gift I had bought HIM! UGH! So I went back up to my dorm room, sick and exhausted. Oh yeah, on top of everything I had a massive sinus infection, and I had just worked a 12 hour day. All I wanted was my significant other to show up and wow me. Too much to ask? I think not.
I get back to my room and collapse with exhaustion. The phone rings. There's flowers at the front desk. Again I fly down the stairs to get them.
They're for my roommate. Who is out on a date with her boyfriend. The roses? Not from her boyfriend.
The scene repeats. I go upstairs, collapse, phone rings, I return down the stairs, and claim another dozen roses for her.
Its a darn good thing I loved my roommate. Otherwise, I would have hurled those flowers at her head when she came home.
Finally, 10 pm comes around. I'm pretty sure I hate both my roommate and my significant other. It doesn't matter because I'm dead asleep. That's when the Sig O calls and asks me to come out and see him.
He hands me a freaking broken sugar cookie that says "Be Mine" on it. And very nicely thanks me for the teddy bear and roses. And then says he wasn't taking his exam. He had fallen asleep in the library! Boy genius, that one.
He realizes I'm less than impressed. After all, I'm sick, exhausted, and he's just handed me a smooshed and broken sugar cookie. His suggestion to make it all better? Let's go make out. In fact, he's pretty certain that would solve everything.
I'll leave the rest up to your imagination.
Worst part? That wasn't my worst V Day ever.
I think the worst one ever goes to a different ex-boyfriend. We had been very seriously dating for several months. We broke up just a week or so before V-Day over some huge family things we just couldn't get resolved. (Namely, we wanted to get married, but his parents hated me for no known reason, other than I was alive.) I was depressed and miserable during the days we broke up.
My roommates at that time were awesome. I came home that day to find my roommates had built a fort in the living room (sheets, chairs, etc), and decorated it with candy hearts, feathers, and chocolates. We had a great girls night in our little fort, with them doing everything to cheer me up.
At 11 pm the ex-bf knocked on the door (scaring the beecheesus out of us). We hadn't seen or spoken to each other in weeks. But we sat down and had a good long talk.
We made up. My roommates conveniently disappeared, so I let him in our special girls only fort. And that's when he said the magic words.
But wait- you thought this was going to be my worst story ever, right? So how can getting back together with my bf on V-day be a bad thing? Oh just wait for it.
He told me he had wanted to get back together sooner, but he didn't want to have to get me a V-day present, so he waited as long as possible. He figured 11 pm got him out of having to buy me a present. There's nothing quite like being told he loves you, but not enough to spend 10 bucks!
I think we can all agree I dodged a bullet by not marrying either of those two gems. 
Personally, I have enjoyed the non-let-downs of all my single Valentine Days. There's nothing wrong with not getting your hopes up. There's nothing wrong with not expecting flowers to be delivered. There's nothing wrong with not caring at all about a holiday made up by Hallmark. There's nothing wrong with just being yourself, and not hanging your hopes on someone else.
Life is much easier and much better when you are in control over what makes you happy. Make your own happiness. Don't sit around waiting for someone else to make you happy.