You Can Love Your Single Life AND Grieve on Valentine's Day (Here's Why)

You walk into Target. You’re bombarded with their Valentine’s displays. And inside you feel two warring parts of you:  you are happy being single, but a tiny part of you is grieving at the same time.

You genuinely love your independence – your apartment curated to your style, only, making spontaneous weekend plans, and the freedom to eat ice cream for dinner without concern from a partner. You wouldn't trade your single life for a mediocre relationship if someone paid you. You’re in a great place. 

Yet something catches in your throat when another engagement announcement lights up your phone. When you're cooking an amazing dinner and for a split second, wish someone else was there to appreciate your perfectly seared salmon.

It's not loneliness, exactly. Definitely not desperation. It’s just a quiet ache for what could have been. For the future you imagined. For the shared moments you thought you'd have by now.

It’s just a little bit of grief. 

Society tells us we have to choose between either fierce independence or being coupled up. But what if you can celebrate your growth while acknowledging what you’d like to have? What if your occasional sadness doesn't invalidate how much you love your single life?

Think of it like waves: Some days you're riding high on independence, planning solo adventures and thriving in your own space. Other days, grief sneaks up – maybe when you're grabbing a seat for one, or watching your friends discuss couple’s Valentine's plans in the group chat.

Your grief isn't a betrayal of your independence. Your desire for partnership doesn't make you less strong. Your occasional sadness doesn't mean you're failing at being single.

You can be proud of your single life and still hold out hope for love. You can cherish the little moments and wish you had someone to share them with. You can know your worth and acknowledge the loss of expected milestones.

Here are some ideas for how to spend Valentine's Day solo, honoring all parts of you:

• Order that absurd sushi platter you've been eyeing on Uber Eats – the one you’ve told yourself has too many rolls for one person. No sharing means no compromise on the spicy ones…enjoy!

• Channel your inner Emily Mariko: Make that salmon rice bowl look Instagram-perfect, just because you can 

• Have a self-care night – fairy lights, expensive wine, and zero explanations needed about why you're watching the 10-minute version of "All Too Well" for the third time.

• Try that new Korean BBQ spot where couples always hog the tables. Take up a whole grill yourself and order exactly what you want 

When grief sneaks up (because it might):

• Journal about the future you imagined and the one you're creating now 

• Write a letter to your past self about how far you've come 

• Make a "Both/And" playlist: Mix empowerment anthems like Lizzo's "Good as Hell" with SZA's "Nobody Gets Me"

• Set aside time for tears if they com

• Have your "Emergency Contact" friend on standby – you know, the one who'll both validate your tears and remind you how much better your life is than your ex's

Creating new traditions:

• Host an "Anti-Valentine's Viewing Party" – think "Gone Girl," "John Tucker Must Die," or a full "Fleabag" rewatch with friends who get it 

• Start a "Love Actually" style tradition – but make it about platonic love. Show up at your best friend's door with cue cards celebrating your friendship 

• Channel Wednesday Addams and embrace both darkness and light – maybe that means black roses and heart-shaped cookies

Remember: Valentine's Day is just another day in February. You can celebrate your independence while honoring your grief. You can buy yourself flowers and still wish someone else had thought to bring them. You can dance alone in your kitchen to empowerment anthems and tear up at love songs.

This Valentine's Day, make space for all of it. And if some tears fall? That just means you're human, holding space for both joy and longing, independence and connection, self-love and grief – sometimes all at once.

Both are valid. Both are real. Both deserve to be honored.