It’s February 14th. A holiday. Valentine’s Day.

I always forget about this one until I start getting those LOOKS and my internal urge to laugh nearly overcomes my external ability to keep a straight face.

I don’t ‘get’ Valentine’s Day. I’m not one of those who dislikes it, I just have never understood the hoopla. Probably because of my happily single status. Anyway, this status isn’t considered ‘normal’ in society and so on this day I often get the LOOK. The LOOK that drops into the middle of a conversation when Luv Day plans are being discussed. The LOOK that says the person is either feeling sorry for me or patiently waiting to offer a sympathetic ear to my Luv Day single woes.

It usually takes me a minute to recognize what the other person is doing and so I spend a few moments worrying if I’ve got leftovers on my face or a bat in the cave. I’m still uncertain how to handle the LOOK. Explaining that I’m perfectly ok usually makes the LOOKS of sympathy deepen and a knowing LOOK of “she’s totally faking it” emerge. So I either ignore it all, unless purposefully addressed, or turn the conversation in other directions.

It’s almost like my birthday. Everyone expects me to celebrate it and I frankly don’t give a rats ass that I was born ____ years ago. “What are you doing for your birthday?” “Nothing.” From which cries of disappointment, pity and denial follow. It’s almost confusing how much other people become concerned that I’m not living my life how they want me to live it. Or not feeling the things they want me to feel. What the hell does it matter? I’m not saying this in anger or frustration, but straight up bewilderment.

And I’ve totally gotten off track. Today is a memorable day for me. There are days on the calendar that are notable to me and only me. When they come around, I recall where and what I was doing ____years ago. Such as the day AFTER my birthday, because that is the day I found out I had been truly accepted as ‘one of the guys’ in my Troop and they wrestled me to the ground and tried to tie me up. Good times. Also the day, in another year, that my heart was broken. July 13 has a lot of significance because, weirdly, big things seems to happen on that day.

Today is notable on my personal calendar because it was the day, 11 years ago, that I flew into South Korea and my first duty station. It was a LONG day. A VERY LONG DAY. It started in Virginia, took one flight to California and another flight to South Korea. If I remember correctly, the day actually lasted longer than 24 hours. And I don’t sleep on planes.

It’s all very memorable. The weekend before I left Virginia, I and some friends went out on the town and somehow ended up watching over a fellow soldier who had gone insane. (Literally) So that happened, and then for some idiotic reason, I decided it would be a good idea to dress up for this endless flight in front of me. I was celebrating the ability to wear civilian clothes again and took it a bit far. Since then, I only wear comfortable clothes when flying. Anyway, it was a heavier than normal snow year in Korea. When we landed, there was an alert going on so all the Airmen on the ground were wearing their gas masks. We unloaded from the plane, unloaded our gear and then packed onto an incredibly cramped and uncomfortable bus for a four hour ride (with no bathroom breaks) to our Camp. It wasn’t usually 4 hours, but the heavy snow upped the driving time.

So when February 14th rolls around, this experience is what pops to mind. I just don’t associate it with romance.