Romanticized.

I want nothing more than to be in love. Not with a man. Not with a woman. Not with a substance, but with myself and my life. I want to be in love with who I am. I want to love what I do. I want to love my home. I want to love my job, my mornings, my middays, my evenings. I want to feel as though I’m thriving. I want to be proud of what I am and who I’ve become. I want to know a life where there are enough hours in the day to be satisfied with how I’ve spent them. 

God already told me I’d be single in 2026.

I am still unsure if that is a challenge or a threat. Will I have romantic options, and must I express responsibility to stay focused? Or will I have no prospects, thrown into unwanted isolation? February is always a weird month for me, and not because it’s shorter than most. February is the month for my mom’s birthday, my baby sister’s birthday,  my late brother’s birthday, and the most obscene holiday of all: Valentine’s Day. As you can imagine, I have a lot to do and focus on during the month. February brings about mixed feelings of excitement, grief, celebration, loneliness, and desire. As I type, it is Sunday morning of the 8th. I have never been single with no prospects at this time of year… It’s something about a new year and the quick throw to Valentine’s Day that sparks new connections and whirlwind romances.

On this day a year or two ago, I’d be pondering my Valentine’s Day plans: setting up wax/nails/hair appointments and anxiously waiting for a lingerie order to be delivered. I’d be praying to God that my current love interest would act right long enough for me to want to slut them out in our booked hotel room. I’d be expecting a grand gesture from my current love interest, hoping that it was the day they’d finally give me what I’d been hinting at for a while: usually a form of mutual commitment. I’d have tickets booked for excursions and couple-oriented events.

2026 is different. Not only am I single as HELL, but I also don’t feel that pit of anxiety in my gut about the upcoming holiday. I don’t want to hop on Tinder or Hinge and make a quick connection. I don’t want to plan a date for someone or worry about outfits to impress them. I don’t even want to shave my coochie. I am simply existing, and I am not swept up in the concept of ‘love’ or any of its recognizable variants. 

As the ultimate lover girl, I am almost unsure how I got to this headspace. I can’t say it’s because I still have a bad taste in my mouth from my breakup. I feel ‘over it’, and over him, after accepting some hard truths about my part in the relationship’s existence and demise. And I’m sure my ex, as an accurate assumption, already has his claws in some other lovergirl who’ll fall victim to his charm. None of this shit concerns me, though. I have new paths to trek; new loves to meet (at some point). 

In fact, February’s theme is ‘The Month of Self Love’ because I am dedicating this month to dating myself. The extrinsic focus at this time is usually on building romantic connections, having good sex, and having fun doing it. It’s not that those things no longer interest me–because they definitely do–it’s my self-control that’s changed. I don’t want these things so much that I let anyone into my space. I am not so desperate to go on a date despite raised flags and lack of interest. My desire to live intentionally does not end with eating better and moving my body. It also includes discernment and protection of my heart, energy, and outward love.

I deserve a romanticized life, and that does not need to include external romance. All the romance I need is in abundance within, and that is the sweetest Valentine’s Day gesture I could ask for. 

This month, I am courting Za’Keya.

The same energy I’d put into courting, or even dating, someone else, I want that for myself. I will pour words of affirmation to myself. I will wake myself up to lovely reminders of my worth and purpose. I will treat myself to flowers. I will take myself on dates. I will grow with myself in love, kindness, and acceptance. I deserve a chance to see what happens when I retain my power rather than give it away.

I used to give away my power so freely, all to appear happy and in love. I would give away my power so often with so little to show for it. Time and time again, I’ve seen what happens when I tap myself dry; when I forfeit my identity for a partner; when I lose sight of self and the strength in my identity.

2026 is my year to be single, sure.

But beneath the straightforward (and bland overtone), it’s the year I keep my power to myself so it may multiply and spill over. Imagine how confident and powerful I’ll be in December without the need to heal from another loser!

I’ll be taking myself on a date this weekend, and I’ll look damn good while I’m out, too.

If you’re single this year, don’t fret.

It’s y(our) time to shine, baby.

-Mama Z