Dear Ex-boyfriends, Fluttery Flings, One Night Stands, Stolen Kisses, Secretive Glances, and that one boy in kindergarten who used to play Simba when I was Nala from Lion King;

What can I say? In my 26 plus years of parallel lives, I have never felt your “unexistence” more than I do now. And no, not because it’s Valentines day / week / month. You’ve all made me anti-Valentines, if you remember. (Maybe not Simba, he had no idea. All he wanted to do was to save the kingdom and make me his princess.) It’s because I’m finally beginning to realise that you were all trying to teach me this one thing: how to be alone.

You know what it is about Valentines day? It doesn’t remind you of what you don’t have, it reminds you of what you do have; your couch at home which knows more about you than anybody else, with all your lies, shame, guilt, and being. Your intricate group of go-to people who are equivalent to gang members who will “ride and die” for you (or in my case, who break down with me as soon as I start loosing my vision due to unwanted tears). Your hopeful crew who you sometimes are biased to love more because they think the fairytale is still alive. And your family, who only get on your nerves because most of the time, they are right.

…Now come the “Thank You”s… For all dates that you never let me pay as well as those when you did, after I insisted relentlessly. For slowing down time in this fast-paced era with beautiful words, long stares, comfortable silences, and the excitement to share the day’s events with you. For altering the meaning of each and every song; even the ones that contain storylines with “bitchez,” “thugz,” “shakin’ their thangs” and Thrift Shopping. Also, for the power. (I feel an intense Beyonce song coming up about being a tough woman.) The power of realising that I, along with many other women, are incredibly giving girlfriends. We f***ing rock. Cheers.

P.s. Hey Simba, how you doin’?