Solitary Definement

***This one is dedicated to all those single folks who aren't afraid of loving themselves***

I don’t see why people always get so crazy when Valentine’s Day comes around. It is one day out of the year where people feel worse about themselves for being single or without a Valentine or without a date. It’s also set up by “Them” to increase capitalistic consumerism. Shouldn’t LOVE be celebrated EVERYDAY? And does Valentine’s Day have to be spent with anyone other than yourself?

What is wrong with WANTING to be single and being a woman? Am I SUPPOSED to want to be with a man, but doomed to be called a lesbian because I don’t necessarily feel like a man is needed in my life…right now? I’m not in dire need of a man, so I’m not a lesbian. I love dick, but I’m not a whore. I’m independent, but I’m not cold.

Aggghhh! These thoughts are driving me crazy!

I catch myself pulling at my hair and staring blankly at today’s Lifetime movie of the week. I’ve been bombarded by these thoughts all week leading up to today, Valentine’s Eve. Like anyone, it would be nice to have SOMEONE for Valentine’s Day, but I’d rather not be poked at by some lover that thinks he’s special because I call him on Valentine’s Day.

I get up from my bed and walk to my laptop on my desk, trying to make a last minute decision of whether to “follow in the heartbeats of the masses” or brave it alone and risk being a pariah.

I log on to both Facebook and Twitter to find out what the events are between today and tomorrow. They have everything from Hedonistic Poetic Throngs to Anti-Love Events. They all felt clichéd to me, even if they were on opposite sides of the spectrum.

I sigh as I close my computer, engrossed with the thought of my own “anti-Valentine’s Day” plans.

“Why do I have to eulogize a holiday, that’s not REALLY a holiday?” I ponder to myself.

I rise from my desk and stand in front of my window, hoping that the afternoon sun will shine light on some idea as to how to get through the triteness of the “holiday.”

And just like that, just when I start to succumb to single person’s loathing, it hits me that you aren’t really alone unless you explicitly make yourself alone. I have great friends, family, and lovers that keep me busy and occupied all the time. What I don’t have is the time to spend with myself.

I quickly walk back to my desk, opening my computer again, and start to type in the Google search bar for hotels in downtown Atlanta….that are available for tomorrow. I find the Ellis Hotel right in the heart of downtown off of Andrew Young blvd.

It was quite an impressive hotel from its pictures on the website. It had a spacious and cozy bedroom, large and modern bathroom, it was in the heart of downtown so when I got bored with spending time with myself all I had to do was step outside the hotel and pick a direction to walk. I book my reservation for tomorrow and jump out of the chair to pack an overnight bag.

The Next Day….

I was so giddy I damn near tripped over my own feet. It had been a long time since I was able to take time away from by hectic domain without feeling guilty for doing it alone.

I finish getting stuff together in my overnight bag: toothbrush and paste, clothes, shower gel/ body wash, facial cleanser and makeup, last but not least, shoes.

I pack my computer into its case and pray that I don’t submerge myself into the Twitter culture. If there is one thing I want to accomplish on my weekend of solace it is to not be imbued by the social media.

On second thought…I think I’ll leave the computer. I opt for my iPod and some portable speakers.

I turn off all the lights, except for the one over the stove and the night lights through-out the house, and head out to the car. I through my overnight bag in the back seat, close the door and listen to the whizz of the garage door as it opens. I take a deep breath, braving this self-inflicted journey and then question why I felt so scared in the first place. I pull out of the garage and make my way to downtown, praying traffic doesn’t meet me on the highway.

I pull up to the Ellis Hotel, amazed by its immaculate structure, proximity to everything downtown, and it’s much welcomed southern charm.

I walk through the lobby and am greeted by all things chic and cherubic. The lobby wasn’t just filled with priceless art, it was also filled with deep red roses, bowls of chocolate and candy, waiters passing with carts of champagne and strawberries. If there was a way to deteriorate the level of elegance in an upscale hotel, I have certainly found it.

I walk to the front desk to check-in, wanting my walking nightmare to end. Of course, the clerk wants to take her precious time with finding my reservation. She finally gives me a key to my junior sweet, making the knife cut even deeper by “reminding” me that Champagne and chocolate are delivered for free to couples in all suites. I thank her, keeping my sarcasm at bay, and climb into the elevator. I take a deep breath, glad that the torture is over and I was able to get through it.

I find my room 1432, [1-I, 4-Love, 3-You, 2-2] how ironic. Slipping the key into the lock I enter to an immaculately laid out modern escape. I drop my bags on the middle of the floor, take off my shoes, plug in my iPod and immediately jump on the bed like I did when I was a carefree child.

I giggle uncontrollably as I finally step down off the bed.

“I’ve always wanted to do that…” I say to myself.

I check out the bathroom to which I find a gorgeous bowl sink, large garden tub with jets, and a spa feeling that just can’t be created at home. The hotel even took care to place a dish of candles on the counter.

It’s still early yet, so I entertain myself with taking a hot bubble bath. I fill the tub with hot water and load it with lavender and jasmine scented bubble bath. I light the vanilla scented candles on the counter. I go back to my room to retrieve my bag and get out a couple of things before returning to the bathroom. I watch myself undress in the bathroom mirror. Going slow, seducing myself.

I slowly submerge my body into the hot water, allowing it to get used to the heat. For a long time, I relax there alone contemplating my life, what it means, and what makes me truly happy.

Lady Love serenades my mind with her anthems of love, loss, lust, and liberty.

I sing along as I soap the washcloth with the jasmine and lavender wash. With lethargic circles, I wash my body, metaphorically cleansing myself of the notion that to be happy I had to be in love with someone. Sometimes God chooses situations to put you in to grow; there are times when it involves people and others when it involves self. This was my situation of self.

I rinse the suds off of my skin and exit the tub, wrapping the terry cloth hotel bathrobe around myself.

“I wonder if they will charge my bill if this robe ‘some how’ came up missing,” I contemplate.

I wasn’t ready to take that chance so I banished the thought from my mind with a snicker.

As I exit, my stomach begins to grumble obscenities at me.

“Damn, when was the last time I ate” I wonder.

I pick up the hotel telephone and order a Turkey BLT with potato chips, a bowl of tomato bisque and sweet tea from room service. The operator assures me it will be ready in approximately 15 minutes. I thank her and hang up the phone. In the meantime, I take the bottle of lotion and moisturize my body, making myself aroused as I moisturize my breasts, stomach, and thighs.

I make myself comfortable beneath the terry cloth robe, I lean over to find my bag at the foot of the bed and reach into it to find my “lil’ companion” also known as “Battery Operated Boyfriend” or BOB for short. I challenge myself to see if I could cum before the food arrives.

I lean back on the bed, make myself comfortable, and invite him in inch by inch. There was no need for foreplay since I had played with myself for about 10 minutes prior to requesting his presence. Once he is totally encased between my legs, I press his on switch and allow him to not only turn me on but to take me over the edge.

What I like most about BOB is that he not only vibrates, but he rotates, pulsates, and strokes. You can’t find a better “boyfriend” than that. I lose myself in his many mechanical mannerisms.

As he massages my cavern, he takes me to valleys, over mountains, and through forests. Right as my orgasm has me in deep conversation with mythical creatures, there is a knock at the door and a “Room service,” from a male voice.

“Give me a moment,” I yell to the door as I finish riding the last of the orgasmic currents. I return my portable lover back to his place of hiding, straighten myself out and answer the door.

I am greeted by the most magnificent looking specimen of a man I have ever seen in my life. He is a handsome dark brown, exotic looking creature. He smiles at me as I stare into his starry eyes.

“You requested room service?” He asks. I am so mesmerized by the brightness of his teeth that all I can do is shake my head and step aside so he can push the cart into my suite.

I imagine naughty, dirty, nasty things he can do to me while I stay there in the hotel; I start to tell him a little bit of my fantasy, but opt to ask him if he is single and his phone number.

He smiles at me, “Yes, and if I give you my number, you promise you’re gonna call me?” He asks. I nod my head yes, assuring myself that he is one worthy of a phone call.

He says confidently, “My number is 404-555-0576.” And then he exits, flashing me that award winning smile again.

“Oh I got some plans for you Mr. Sexy, but tonight is just for me,” I say to myself.

I look over at the clock on the nightstand, and rush to finish getting ready.

I take one last look at myself before heading out to my “date.” Damn, I look good…mission accomplished.

I exit the hotel and make my way to the Cobb Energy Center to see the Atlanta Ballet in Cinderella. I’ve always wanted to go to the ballet, but multiple boyfriends felt it was too feminine of a date to invite me.

I leave the Cobb Energy Center in jealous tears. Damn, if love was ACTUALLY like that….I don’t think ANYONE would have anything to worry about. Divorce wouldn’t exist and all couples, though riddled with adversity would not only get through it but get through it happily and together.

I conclude this part of my date by taking a trip to Cami Cakes, off of Peachtree Street. I enter, indulging in their extraordinarily unique and delectable confections. I order a chocolate raspberry, almond cupcake and milk. The cashier tells me that the owner of the shop, made each of her cupcakes a little extra special today by placing love notes and quotes in the center of each cupcake.

On the side of my cupcake, my message sticks out willing me to see what inspiration lies in wake for me….I consider what I’ve learned about myself this Valentine’s Day as I pull the message out of the cupcake.

“The more I Love myself, the more others will love me (power thought)”