February 14th, I effin' HATE you.

I've hated you for so long now that even if I found myself in a long-term relationship during your visit, I'd still hate you. You mock and shun and consistently rub it in mine and others' faces.

Alone. Alone. You poor pathetic soul. No flowers, no chocolates, no gestures for you.

This is seven out of the last eight Valentine's Days that I have been alone and frankly, it fucking SUCKS. There's no other way to put it. I'm angry and jealous and yeah, I've poured myself a glass of wine in preparation for one nice big pity party. And I'd like nothing that to make a giant St. Valentine pinata and fill it with all the jealous, petty, self-hating thoughts I get every year and smack the living shit out of it until it rains blood and shit and little candy hearts, because I am alone again and I hate it.

I have been in love three times. I was in love with my ex-husband. He said he loved me. He married me. He fathered my children. Then he cheated on me and eventually left me, never actually explaining why. The story changed from day to day. I've accustomed myself to knowing I can only guess why he left.

I was in love with my best friend. He was there for me through my divorce while I carried my second child, alone and afraid. I was there when he was dealing with his ex and the custody of their child. We even lived together. We shared laughter and tears and I realized I was in love with him. When I finally told him, he said he loved me. But he loved me like a friend, like a sister and nothing more.

A year ago I met a man that I would fall for, and hard. I had never experienced love at first sight before, and my usually cautious self fell face-first in love with him. It was so amazing at first. Then, a few months later, same old story. He didn't feel as strongly about me as I did him. He didn't want to hurt me. My feelings for him scared him. I was devastated. Weeks later, he came back, he missed me, but he was afraid of hurting me. I said I didn't care. He kept me at arms length for months, until I couldn't take it. After things were over, he asked if we could we still be friends.

I have a lot of friends. Sometimes, the last thing I need, the last thing I want, is another friend.

I want someone to make love to.

I want someone who longs to be near me, not just someone willing to hang out with me when there's nothing better to do.

I want someone I can call when I'm sick or grouchy and not feel like an inconvenience or some needy thing.

I want someone to call me when they've had a bad day and who will say "I just want to see you" - you know, without it being all about sex.

I'm sick of pretending it doesn't bother me when other girls at work get flowers sent to them. Honestly? Not so big on flowers. But it'd be nice once in a while.

I'm sick of hearing friends bitch about their boyfriends or husbands because they are sloppy or they fart in bed, when I know these guys and sometimes would like to go, "Hey, if you don't want him, I'll gladly take him off your hands!"

I'm sick of my mom asking me if I've tried eHarmony.

I'm sick of worrying about who to take to weddings and staff Christmas parties.

I'm just sick of being alone, and I'm scared to fucking death of becoming one of the bitter ones. I don't want to give up on love. But I also don't want the search to consume me.

I like my life. I love my kids. I like my job (most of the time). I like my house, I like my hobbies and I love my friends and family. But would it be too much to ask to share that?

Is it too much to ask not to have a day of the year that seems to be dedicated to making me feeling like shit because I DON'T have someone to share it with?

Seriously, St. Valentine, is this bullshit really what you had in mind?