Galentines Day: A Love Letter to My Gals
In the immortal words of her royal highness Parks and Recreation’s Leslie Knope, Galentines Day or February 13th “[is] wonderful and it should be a national holiday”.
At least it’s a national holiday in my house. Throughout university, even before I’d seen the show, a few friends and I would treat ourselves to a little Galentines.
Whether we were in a relationship or not- it didn’t matter. It was our night. Here, Leslie is celebrating with waffles and brunch. Our galentines tended to lean towards tapas and tequila. Each to their own. That being said, brunch sounds pretty good right about now.
As someone who lives for overindulging at every possible event and holiday that I can reasonably mark on a calendar, Valentine’s day is the rare exception. Even when I was in a relationship, I wasn’t much for it. I would pretend like an Athiest praying in church but ultimately I always felt out of place. I remember one particular Valentines, I spent the whole night watching the couple next to me- him in a football shirt and her sitting on her phone, neither of them talking. It was stunning.
Being single on Valentine’s- in the middle of a pandemic- affirms that for me even more. Like most of you, my inbox has been flooded with Valentine’s promotion after promotion. It’s not something I normally notice but when I spend a least 20 something hours on my laptop everyday, seeing barely anyone other than my lovely parents, some things start to seep through the cracks.
This particular Valentine’s is difficult but not for the reason you might expect. My heart isn’t breaking because I don’t have someone to watch the third installment of ‘To All The Boys I Loved Before’. I can watch that myself. For the record, I wish I hadn’t bothered, it was terrible.
It’s difficult because up until Valentine’s or at least March, I have a plan. Every day is planned out and is certain. I have things that need to be achieved and a very clear purpose that forces me to get out of bed every day. But after my final round of exams and my portfolio submission, everything suddenly becomes blank. By now, through 100 somewhat posts and articles, you know that’s not easy for me to do or accept.
I was determined after my NCTJ to leave my life open and undecided. When else in my life am I going to be in the position to live freely like this? That’s all very well in theory, in practice it sits quite different.
This week, I lost out on a job that I’m not sure I wanted. Yet, I felt the loss of it nonetheless. I’ve spent the last 6 months living and breathing journalism. The pandemic has made it difficult for me to earn, I’m far away from my university friends and the impending Valentine’s day celebrations is a glaring red-and-pink love heart reminder (that I didn’t need or ask for by the way) that I’m not in a relationship. I don’t even have a crush. My Valentine’s plans are avoiding my loved-up parents and reviewing a theatre show about domestic abuse that I paid to watch. Lucky me.
But it was all okay because I had journalism. At least until this week it felt like it was something I could rely on- something that I was good at without question. Of course, that’s how my anxiety ridden brain decided to process this latest rejection. With a couple of days of perspective, I’m thinking more clearly and rationally but I didn’t get here on my own.
I am fortunate enough to have an incredibly caring family and a group of close friends who talked some sense in to me- this time round and so many times before that. And we can only assume that they have a lifetime ahead of doing so.
When I thought about writing a brief post about Galentines, I thought about how I’ve spent the day with my friends before- how we’ve commemorated our friendship with margaritas and mayhem on more than one occassion. I thought about all the other times that we’ve been at each other’s houses drinking wine and watching films or gossiping over coffee and cake. I reminisced about dressing up with them on a night out and celebrating their birthdays and their big moments. I laughed over how many times we’ve peed in front of each other or who’s held each other’s hair back after one too many.
Last night, I was on a catch-up phone call with two of them. We were giggling over all the daft things we’ve done in the past four years we have known each other. I’m not one for a gushy romantic Valentines but a Galentines? That’s something that I can get behind. I don’t believe in fate and destiny even if my Netflix queue suggests otherwise. But I do think about how lucky I am to have these girls in my life. I’m grateful for all the fun over four years of university and all the times they’ve held my hair back and kept my chin up.
It’s been a hard and long year for all of us-my friends and I are no exception. Today, I should be bottomless brunching with them and showering each other with selfies so we can pinpoint exactly where the night went wrong the day after. But I am not. None of us are. In fact, we haven’t all been together, in person, in over six months and I have no idea when we will be again now that we’ve all left the city where we met.
But if this year is any indication, these girls are my friends for my life. They take the time to call, or message or share cute dog pictures. And no pandemic or any manner of distance is going to change that.
Love letters are supposed to be for the significant other in your life. Then, I’ll take three because these girls are all I need.
