I’m very nearly 38, overweight, and temporarily single.

Not, like, buying new underwear and low-cut tops single, but, like, eating microwaveable food while hovering over the sink musing over Valentine’s Day prospects single.

So here are my thoughts.
I have no desire to meet anyone, mind you; my date of the last 12 V-Days will be back from his work gig soon enough.  But this year represents a Valentine’s Day that I can have myself a nice romantic evening exactly as I want it, no compromising necessary.

Option one: Go dancing. Since the significant one has an aversion to “clubbing,” I can use my freedom to hop, skip, and boogie at whim.

However, one thing problematic for me is the whole “getting dressed up to go out.”  Since dancing requires at least a precursory attempt at looking smoking hot, this necessitates, for me, going through my closet at least 17 times while discarding at least 178,000 combinations that range from bad to abysmal.

Option two: Go out for a romantic dinner for one. Pick a spot, any spot.  Dining for one means I can go eeny meeny miny moe and drop into some new fantastic restaurant — there’re so many to choose from! — and enjoy gobs of garlicky, drippy, juicy, messy things, or even entire cuisines the mate dislikes.

But wait.  Dining for one means I have to watch gooey, cooing couples feeding each other tiramisu and making those eyes that imply the after-hours activities they’ll be enjoying. And for me, dining on garlicky, juicy, messy, pasta things means reaching into the closet will continue to reap abysmal results.

Option three: Go for a nibble and a sip.  This time, pick from list of favorite spots, where I can sit by the bar and chat with — or at least see — my favorite people, where I can enjoy the feelings of community belonging and Tacoma-ness that are heating up as I enjoy sips of my favorite wine while noshing on something small but flavorful. For this “hot date with me,” I can even eat cheese without halitosis worries.

This sounds like a hugely appealing evening but one that could lead to remorse the following morning.

So then I consider option four: Go experience culture. I can wander to TAG and experience the Pulitzer-prize winning play “Proof” or saunter up the hill to the Rialto and experience the cello octet with a Spanish accent that is Pilar Jurado and Conjunto Iberico.  As I sit alone in the theater, I can experience a sensory journey unique to being immersed in a seat in the near-dark as the rich textures of the experience engulf me.

To me, that sounds like the most decadent kind of fun one can have, because really, in the City of Destiny, one doesn’t have to be the loneliest number.

Check out the Weekly Volcano’s hot tips for fun for one on our blog.