Joseph Jarrett

I’ve always hated Valentine’s Day. And I mean that I genuinely hate it. In my opinion, it is a pointless and greedy holiday. Major retailers, restaurants, and other services capitalize on the principle that if you don’t spend half your fortune on the person you love on this one specific day of the year, you don’t love them at all. It pisses me off so much.

            Love used to be sacred. Gifts, flowers, and special dinners were fun surprises, dates, and once served as special moments shared together. Now, these things are an obligation. Everyone is so afraid of messing up on February 14^th. Any other day of the year, we let it slide, but not today.

            You may question me for this hot take, and that’s okay. You might be saying, “But Jo, you’re the biggest hopeless romantic mankind has ever seen! What do you mean you hate Valentine’s Day?” It may be a hard pill to swallow, but you have to accept it. I hate it, and I probably always will.

            There is so much in my life that is good, and I am surrounded by people who love me. My close friends and family treat me better than any man ever has. I’m so lucky and so grateful for that, truly I am. When you’ve been single for so long and have your heart shattered a few times, you start to lose the magic in the scene. The thorns on the rose get sharper every single year. For a long time, I thought that the love I offered myself and the love I received from my circle were enough. Sometimes, that still is. But it gets so incredibly lonely when you see literally every person in your life happily partnered.

            Maybe it’s jealousy, maybe it’s immaturity. Regardless, it stings. I’ve never had a man show up randomly at my door with a bouquet of tulips (my favorite flower, FYI). I’ve never had a man make me a playlist of songs that he associates with me. I’ve never had a man proud to be with me. I’ve gotten used to being the stepping stone, the one they see until it’s time for their one and only to appear. I’ve gotten used to doing everything solo, even when it says “two-person team needed.” I’ve gotten used to a life where a man has not loved me in the way I love people. That’s just how it is.

            And please, for the love of God, do not say that “it’ll happen when you least expect it” or that I should “be patient because it’s not up to me when it happens.” I hate those sayings even more than I hate Valentine’s Day. It feels like a slap to the face anytime someone says it to me. It stings so much because it’s usually someone who is in a happy relationship telling me this.

            So, every year on February 14^th, I like all the sappy social media posts, I watch a rom-com or two, and I ask people what they did to celebrate and smile the widest grin possible the entire time. But inside, I feel myself hunching over from the repeated gut punches.

            In an effort to make things better, I try to find ways to make myself happy on this cursed day. And Valentine’s Day 2026 was honestly one of the best I have ever had. As the sun started to rise, I took a two-hour ride down to Mount Dora, Florida, with my sweet mother. It was in a cute little cottage, known as The Mount Dora Bistro, that we were attending a Parisian tea service in the company of other authors and reading enthusiasts. The perfect opportunity to get fancied up, pitch our books to potential readers, and build a sense of community with other writers. It was beautiful.

            As I sipped hibiscus zest tea, people from across the state shared stories of how they started writing, what they write about, and the things that help them to stay inspired. Some of these people were true characters. I could’ve sworn they were pulled from the pages of the books themselves. But each person had a unique perspective, all of which were entertaining and enjoyable to hear about.

            In attendance at the tea service was a woman named Caroline. Caroline was one of the non-writer guests who came to listen to everyone speak and have some fun. Towards the end of the service, I spoke about Mishaps & Mistakes, and answered questions from the others about my book, my story, and how I made it work. Caroline shared her experiences of being a mother to a gay man with me, and the bond between us fell together almost instantaneously. While I won’t share the details of our conversation, I will share the best thing that Caroline did for me: she bought my book. She bought a printed copy of my book directly from my hands. While Mishaps & Mistakes has been available since late summer 2025, no one has ever been able to purchase a copy in person. While I know many of the people who have read my book, this was the first time I actually felt like I sold my book for the right reason. Part of me wants to frame that $10 bill because of how happy it made me.

            I hurriedly scribbled a note inside for my new friend and her son, before hugging her goodbye and running out of the bistro. My mission with Mishaps & Mistakes feels complete. It landed in the hands of someone who needed it, and my heart couldn’t be happier.

            So, for the first time probably ever, I had a Valentine’s Day that I wasn’t miserable. There may not have been tulips, a gorgeous man, or a surprise date planned, but the memory of the day is more than enough. To any fellow bitter singles out there, give the day a chance. You really never know what’ll happen. Happy Valentine’s Day, friends.