Every year around mid-January, the performance begins. Those of us who are single start curating our “thriving alone” content. Those of us in relationships begin researching restaurants that say “we’re still interesting” without saying “we’re trying too hard”. Everyone prepares their defence for whatever story they’ve decided to tell about their romantic life this year.
Valentine’s Day is less a holiday and more an annual audit of your relationship status, where you’re required to present your findings in a format that fits neatly into an Instagram story.
You’re either winning at being single (look at this elaborate self-care routine I definitely do regularly) or winning at being coupled (look at these roses that definitely weren’t a last-minute panic purchase).
The performance is exhausting, and we all know it, but we do it anyway because the alternative is admitting that most of us are living in the deeply unsexy middle ground.
Here’s what that middle ground actually looks like:
You can be genuinely happy with your independence and feel a spike of loneliness when your phone is quiet on February 14th.
You can love your partner and want to throw the overpriced prix-fixe menu out the window.
You can enjoy dating casually and still feel like you failed when someone ghosts you the week before.
But we’re supposed to pick a lane and commit. So most of us spend the week leading up to Valentine’s trying to perform whichever narrative feels most defensible, then wonder why we’re so tired by February 15th.
Why We Do This to Ourselves
Valentine’s Day has turned into another deadline where you’re supposed to prove you’ve sorted your romantic life into something presentable. It’s less about actually enjoying yourself and more about having the right story to tell.
Some cultures treat these occasions as a chance for good fortune. You’re already fine, maybe you’ll get lucky. We went the other direction. You’re supposed to start from “needs fixing” and work your way up to “has evidence of success”. It’s exhausting.
By February 14th, you should have proof that you’re either happily partnered or genuinely thriving alone. No confusion allowed. No contradictions permitted.
The problem is that real life doesn’t work like that. Most of us are holding two truths at once, and that’s uncomfortable when you’re supposed to make it Instagram-ready.
“I’m happy and sad and fine and not fine” doesn’t fit in a caption. So we perform one side and judge ourselves for not fully believing it.
What Happens When You Stop Performing
Here’s what actually changes when you acknowledge the contradictions instead of trying to resolve them:
You stop the internal audit.
“I’m holding two truths” is significantly less exhausting than “Why can’t I be consistent about this?” That self-judgment loop that kicks in around February 10th and runs until the 15th? It just doesn’t activate the same way.
You get your energy back.
When you’re not building a case for why you’re fine with your status, you have substantially more resources for actually enjoying February 14th however you want to spend it.
You can tell what’s real.
Once you stop trying to convince yourself of a coherent narrative, the difference between “I actually want this” and “I think I should want this” becomes pretty obvious.
What this looks like:
Happy most days, sad on Valentine’s?
- Both are real.Love your partner, hate the Valentine’s performance? Both are real.
- Confident about dating, spiral when ghosted? Both are real.
- Know it’s over, don’t want it to end? Both are real.
You’re not broken. You’re holding two things at once.
Five Ways to Figure Out What’s Real
These aren’t big exercises. They’re just quick ways to check in with yourself when you realise you’ve been performing for so long you’ve forgotten what you actually think.
Pick whichever one feels least like homework.
1. The “Both/And” Text (30 seconds)
Open your notes app and finish this sentence: “I’m __________ AND I’m __________.”
Could be:
- “I’m thriving AND I’m lonely”
- “I’m confident AND I’m scared”
- “I’m fine AND I’m not fine”
Type it. Read it back. If the “AND” feels uncomfortable, you’ve probably been performing one side and suppressing the other.
2. Emoji Check-In (30 seconds)
Describe your Valentine’s feelings using exactly three emojis. No more, no less.
- 😊😔🤷♀️ for happy, sad, confused (all true)
- ❤️😩🍷 for love him, exhausted by this, need wine
- 💪😢📱 for confident alone, sad when scrolling, phone is the problem
The constraint forces honesty. You can’t perform with three emojis. If they contradict each other, that’s the point. You’re holding both.
3. The “Would You Rather” Game (1 minute)
Answer these quickly, first instinct only:
- Skip Valentine’s Day entirely OR have everyone make a big deal about it?
- Post about being single and thriving OR admit you’re sad sometimes?
- Elaborate self-date OR stay home and do nothing?
- Low-key evening with your partner OR full romantic production?
- Tell the truth about how you feel OR keep performing fine?
If your answers surprise you (“wait, I’d actually rather skip the whole thing?”), that’s the gap between what you want and what you think you should want.
4. Body Check (1 minute)
Say your first truth out loud: “I’m happy single.”
Notice where you feel it. Chest, shoulders, stomach. Does it feel open, tight, warm? Say your second truth: “I’m sad on Valentine’s.”
Where does that one land?
If one feels grounded and one feels like you’re defending yourself, you’re probably performing the defensive one.
5. The Colour Game (1 minute)
Assign a colour to each side of your split.
“I’m happy being single” = yellow
“I feel sad on Valentine’s” = blue
Look around. Which colour shows up more today? Which feels more real right now?
Both are still true. One’s just louder at the moment.
What to Actually Do With This
Once you know what’s genuine versus what’s performance, you have options.
If it’s genuine:
Stop apologising for it. You’re allowed to care about Valentine’s Day. You’re also allowed to not care at all. You’re allowed to want a low-key evening instead of a grand gesture, or vice versa. None of these need justification.
If it’s performance:
Figure out what you’d actually want if no one was watching, then do that instead.
Replace the elaborate solo Valentine’s dinner with staying home if that’s what sounds better. Replace the romantic restaurant reservation with takeaway on the sofa if the production is exhausting you. Replace “I’m fine” with “I’m not fine” if that’s more honest.
If it’s both:
Then it’s both. Hold both. Stop trying to resolve it into a story that makes sense.
Questions that help:
- Would I want this if Valentine’s Day didn’t exist?
- Would I choose this if no one knew about it?
- Which part feels true versus which part feels like building a defence?
The Actual Point
Valentine’s Day doesn’t create these contradictions. It just reveals them.
The work isn’t resolving the ambivalence, it’s recognising it. So you can stop judging yourself for not having a clean story, stop exhausting yourself performing the “correct” narrative, and stop making choices based on what you think you should want.
The contradictions aren’t the problem. The performance is.
You’re allowed to be happy single and sad on February 14th. You’re allowed to love your partner and resent the Valentine’s industrial complex. You’re allowed to feel confident and scared, fine and not fine, thriving and lonely, all in the same week.
Want to go deeper? Take the Valentine’s Ambivalence Audit or read the full playbook on holding the split.