Ahh, February 14. Hearts and flowers, chocolate, cupids and
dinner in a restaurant. Pink – my least favorite color. This is one U.S. holiday
I can seriously do without. The Finns have it right. Here it’s called “Friends’
Day”, and it’s not particularly romantic. Everyone wishes each other a happy
day, not just couples, though I suspect the more Americanized version is
catching on.
This day has always been disastrous for me, starting with the
first one I can remember. It was 5th grade and I had a crush on a
boy named John. I got my parents to take me to a store where I could buy him the
biggest valentine available – covered with
flowers and delicate script -- and I had my dad sign it from ‘your secret
admirer’ so my handwriting couldn’t be detected. I snuck it into the school coatroom
during lunch, though someone probably caught a glimpse of the huge envelope.
John’s face burned red as he opened it, and immediately after, the most obnoxious
boy in the class said, “I’ll bet it’s from you, Kathy!” My face must have given
me away. After that, all I remember is that I somehow got home and lay on my
bed in tears, trying to figure out how I could arrange it so I never had to go
back to school again.
What was I thinking?
It’s not gotten any better since then. Valentine’s Day
builds up so many expectations: the perfect gift, the perfect mood, the perfect
outing. Perfect communication. Wonderful memories. No wonder reality can’t
compare. When I was first dating the man who would become my husband, we were
on a trip together on Valentine’s Day. I could tell he was already regretting
being together on such an important couple’s holiday when we weren’t really a
couple yet. So when we exchanged cards and gifts – the SAME cards and then the
SAME gifts, as it turned out – I think he acted coldly and distantly for the
rest of the weekend just to get some room to breathe. I suppose the fact that I
can’t remember any other Valentine’s Days spent with him is significant.
There’s something that really bothers me about Valentine’s
Day, and I think it’s this: if love is a wild force or, as some philosophers
have claimed, an illness, one that makes us crazy and irrational and able to
commit murder out of jealousy, how can you possibly dedicate one day of the
year to celebrating it in fairly prescribed ways – going out to dinner, for
example? Shouldn’t these celebrations be more crazy and irrational themselves?
And above all spontaneous?
I dislike Valentine’s Day so much, I’m going to switch
topics, though I suppose you will draw connections between them. I wanted to
talk about loneliness. But before I do, I should explain this entry’s title.
When I was in college, I briefly dated a man named Val. Our relationship ended
a few days before Valentine’s Day, and I was relieved, so my roommate at the
time and I wished each other a happy Val Ain’t Mine day. We still do.
In the U.S., I was fairly certain that I was the person in
my circle of friends who needed more alone time than anyone else. It didn’t
seem to matter how much time I spent by myself – I was never lonely. Perhaps it
was the perception of the wide circle of acquaintance in the town I lived in
for 20 years, the knowledge that I could end my solitude at virtually any time.
And – probably not insignificantly – I had pets around all the time. At the
height of their population, there were six animals in my home, three dogs and
three cats. In addition, I had neighbors whom I knew, and I could see them
working in their yards or eating meals on their decks.
Here in Finland, I live in an apartment building in which
almost no one says a word to the other residents. The one exception is the
older gentleman with a gentle dog who lives one floor below me. I live far
enough from downtown (a 40-minute walk) that it’s not convenient to come see
me, so I haven’t done much entertaining, not wanting to inconvenience people.
The bus runs between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. on Saturdays and not at all on Sundays,
so going out to do something in town takes planning, energy, and/or money.
Added to this, many of my colleagues live two hours out of town and are not
even in Joensuu on weekends, so the pool of potential activity buddies is
small.
This all adds up to a lot of lonely.
But I am not wallowing in my sad little diaspora. I’ve
signed a rental contract to move to a neighborhood closer to the university and
downtown. The best part about this neighborhood, I’m told, is that it’s more
like a community than other places. There are work parties, sauna nights and
impromptu gatherings. And two of my colleagues live there. I have a feeling
there will be less lonely and more activity in just a month or two.
And I’ve given myself a strict talking-to. Solitude is a
gift. I’ve always been very good company for myself, so why don’t I simply
enjoy this good company a little more. The only constant in life is change, so
they say, so this phase won’t last forever.
So – Happy Valentine’s Day, Happy Friend’s Day, or just
plain Happy Day. Really, February 14 is simply another calendar day, and
cultural expectations don’t have to be yours or mine.
Though I have to admit: I wouldn't mind if George Clooney -- or his Finnish equivalent -- knocked on my door this evening and asked me out to dinner.
(c) Kathy Saranpa 2014
(c) Kathy Saranpa 2014
