I don’t know what it is about Valentine’s Day but there’s something about it that just instantly transports you back to being at school. Will I get a card? Will somebody send me flowers? Even if you’re perfectly happy with your life it always seems to bring up questions.
I know there’s the party out there that believes the whole day is just a money-making racket but there’s still something about it that gets under your skin.
As Valentine’s Day approaches I’ve read a few posts about being single on the road. Some have discussed the difficulties of meeting someone special when you’re constantly on the move and others have talked about how hard it can be to find a person back at home who understands your wanderlust.
They got me thinking about this time last year. I was in Wellington, New Zealand, travelling solo, when Valentine’s Day arrived. I absolutely loved the quirkiness of the city and had really enjoyed exploring it. I’d met a nice couple in my hostel but I was very conscious about not being a gooseberry as they were planning to cook a nice meal together that evening.
So I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do for the evening when suddenly it occurred to me that I was in a city on the other side of the world and I could actually do whatever I liked. I love the theatre so I went to see whether there was a play on. It turned out there was a brilliant show about a Kiwi-English couple who were trying to decide which country they should live in when they got married.
I arrived at the theatre that night worried that I would be surrounded by couples but I actually didn’t even notice. The show was brilliant, I even got dragged on to the stage at one point and I went home so happy that I’d made the effort to go out by myself, which is something I would never in a million years have done back at home.
It also made me realise that sometimes loving the life you live is enough on Valentine’s Day.