Happy Valentine’s Day

In honor of Singles Awareness Day, I had changed my profile picture to one that I drew back in high school. It’s a heart with an arrow through it, a well-accepted image of love, depicted in all its realistic gore. If only Cupid knew just how disgusting that image was, maybe he would’ve chosen a different weapon to shoot his arrows of love. It’s a design that I had printed on a tee shirt, and is probably the reason that I won the “Most Creative” sadie award in my graduating class. Through the years, I’d often thought that, were it not so detailed, it would be the ultimate tattoo for me. It’s a perfect symbol of my bitterness.

When I woke up this morning, though, I decided that I wasn’t going to be bitter today. Why should I let the happiness of others bother me? If I don’t care what they think about me, why should I care what they think about each other? I make my own destiny, so I have no one but myself to blame for this bitterness. It’s time to change that.

My experiment to change how I approached women was doomed to failure from the beginning. Going through the motions and changing my words might fill my pocket with phone numbers, but it doesn’t change who I am. It’s time to abandon that experiment and start a new one. It’s time to change who I am.

This is something that I can’t practice on Saturday mornings at Lowe’s, or lunchtime at Hooters. It’s something I can’t practice at all, really. It’s something that has to be done, or failed at. (“Do, or do not. There is no try.” – Yoda) This leaves me in a bit of a pickle, though, because I have no idea how to change who I am.

How does one take a lifetime of bitterness and discard it? How did I do it this morning? Or am I just lying to myself in thinking I did? I’ve watched several rounds of flowers roll into the office, and haven’t made a snide remark yet. Hopefully the mood will keep as I get ready to go to the Anti-Valentine this evening.

And just because I was asked to, I’m throwing a made-up word in here to screw with a search engine. “brrreeeport” There you go, Aubrey.

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