Despite buying cards for my family and friends and pondering the difficulties of being single on the world's most couple-ly holiday with various friends for the past week, I didn't remember until 7:00 last night that Valentine's Day once had deeper significance than a box of chocolates and candlelight dinners. Five years ago today, somebody gave me a present that looked like lifetimes and love and promises, but actually amounted to about a month of awkwardness and trepidation and frustration. The ring was beautiful, the feeling behind it not so much. Not the world's most ideal engagement.

After it finally ended, I wondered if Valentine's Day was ruined forever. And for a couple of years, it felt like that. I would spend weeks thinking of elaborate plans to keep myself occupied for that difficult day. But, somehow, I guess the infamous "they" are right--- time does heal all wounds. And this year, I made it within five hours of the day without thinking of my unhappy anniversary.

I told a friend last night that finally it feels less about the person and the pain and is now just something that happened to me. Instead, the fact that I have been solidly and significantly single for five years is a bit more troublesome.

I am halfway through February Fling and it feels more like February Fizzle. Though maybe that's my problem--- looking for the fling for five years, instead of the commitment and companionship that coupledom brings. Granted, for a good portion of that time, I chose to be single, to be unencumbered. To not let anyone in who might complicate or alter my plans.

But, here I am now. In a world where comfort and care are needed more than ever. Where so many of my friends have found contentment with one person. And I want to feel sorry for myself; let myself sink down into the woe of spending a lifetime up in my tree house alone. But, to be honest, I just don't feel all that sad.

Being single that long is hard for me to imagine, despite actually living it. It sounds pathetic, but I guess there's something to that other cliché of time flies when you're having fun. I can travel and visit and flirt and dream whatever and whenever I want. I wouldn't have taken the chance and moved to this city that still seems like a fantasy from a little girl's storybook. It would have been impossible for me to have had the adventures and developed the friendships I have right now if I had been married (or in my case, divorced) by this time.

And I can't feel too lonely. My mom sends me another care package with SweetTart hearts. I receive cards and wishes and presents and calls from dear friends that so clearly sing their love, louder than any sparkly ring ever did. And sometimes, when the sadness creeps into the back of a cab a few minutes before midnight, you hear an unexpected voicemail from someone special and your heart lifts as the clock turns and the holiday arrives. And you know that Valentine's Day is just another Thursday, flings can last a decade, and eventually there will be happier anniversaries for me --- whether they fall in February or not.

So bring on the final 14 days of February Fling. You just never know what could happen or who you could meet. As my Q-Card said today: Chances are...