The first Valentine’s Day post-divorce was slated to be depressing and, in many ways, it was. But ever the optimist, I tried to think about all of the love I do have and not the love that I don’t. This is not an easy feat when you’ve been with the same person for seven Valentine’s Days.
I’m an old-fashioned, romantic type: all the cheesy stuff they do in the movies? That’s what I want, but maybe a more eclectic version of it. It still surprises many that there can be feminists who choose to be honored for their femininity; welcome to the Third Wave, people.
I am romantic, but not hopeless.
Without further ado, I give you my Valentine’s Day personal ad:
Single, artistic-yet-type-A female in her late 20’s seeks attractive, funny, artistic, responsible, wealthy, animal-loving, 30-something male who does not find Sephora and Tiffany’s to be swear words, who shuns neither Catholicism nor Eastern philosophies, who will travel with me, understand the importance of civic engagement, have a family with me and be a hands-on father. Organic eaters, avid-recyclers and progressive minds a plus. Must bring minimal emotional baggage and preferably has had some therapy, so as not to drag old issues into a fresh relationship (we all have issues from our childhood; I’m not here to be your mommy). Closeted drug addicts, alcoholics, narcissists and passive aggressive types need not apply. Only those who subscribe to the motto “everything in moderation” are encouraged to respond. Oh, and if you can’t get down with NBC’s Thursday night lineup and SNL, don’t even bother.
I don’t think my demands are too lofty.