If you’re like me, when you get invited to a “Friendsgiving,” you envision a kaleidoscope of mix-and-match chairs sitting impossibly cool people wearing impossibly cool hats discussing everything from Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez to the benefits of tongue scrapers. They’re passing around biodynamic red wine and heaping piles of mashed potatoes that look like Grandma’s, but are actually vegan—making them decidedlyunlike Grandma’s. Enraptured in a copious supply of conversation and food, Friendsgiving is good times all around. You want to be there.
But with Valentine’s Day around the corner, I found myself wondering why the companion spin-off “Galentine’s Day” (Friendsgiving is to Thanksgiving what Galentine’s is to Valentine’s) made me feel the exact opposite.
In fact, you will not find me at Galentine’s. I’ve never gone and never will.
Originated as a day for single gals to bask in the beauty that is female friendship, today it sounds less empowering and more, well, apocalyptic. One mention of the word and it’s like you’re projecting my single status in flashing lights. I don’t need to “take back” my singlehood to make myself feel better. I’m fine being single. And honestly, the idea of sitting on a couch, watching a rom-com you’ve never been brave enough to say you don’t actually like (looking at you, 10 Things I Hate About You) and eating pizza when you really want Indian food because no one can say no to Emily, all hammers home the idea that being single is bad, when I don’t hold that to be true at all.