With one exception, whenever I see a first-year couple, I wonder: are you two together because you really enjoy each other, or because you're lonely? It's hard to leave home for the first time, leave the security and comfort of living with people who have known you since you were born, to enter a place where, in the beginning at least, no one really cares about you.

Many people here go drinking every weekend. Quite a few hooked up within the first couple weeks of getting here. Others seem almost desperate not to be alone in their rooms, for fear of loneliness, a bad reputation,...what?

Part of me wonders about them. And reflects on how I almost committed myself to someone, twice, out of a desperate fear of being lonely, of not belonging to Flint House the way I finally did to South House. Looking back on my first quarter here, now, I am more worried that I almost picked up a couple of boyfriends than about being accepted. Almost everyone's too busy to be either judgemental or accepting, anyway.

I've come to terms with that, I think. And now that I have, I'm entirely grateful that I'm still single, I'm still a semi-loner, I don't have to make plans to go to the dining hall at the same time as anyone else.

But I wonder - are any halves of those couples feeling regret? Or maybe I'm just angry and bitter about relationships and they're really wonderful "walking through meadows holding hands" experiences. I guess time will tell.

Last night I had a dream about someone in my house. It was the basic "one half of couple helps other half through bad times" storyline. I knew I could depend on him, and he let me know he felt the same. It was comfortable, but not suffocating. It helped me develop friendships with others instead of making me feel I didn't need anyone else. Supportive, but not codependent.

It was a nice dream, about a guy in my house who I've spoken to maybe twice. He served as a symbol, of course, and little (if anything) more. But it makes me wonder: what's out there, waiting for me in the pages of my life that have yet to be written?

I used to think of Valentine's Day as a terribly lonely holiday - at least for people without "significant others." Luckily, I've been away from school and home on various trips on this dreaded date since the 7th grade.

Now, I am not. But I'm in a good situation, nonetheless. I'm not infatuated with anyone, so there will be no emminent heartbreak at the absence of flowers and declarations of love. I'm not seeing anyone, so I don't have to fret over appropriate gifts. And perhaps most importantly, I don't regret my solitude. I won't deny it would be nice to have someone to hug me when I'm down and gaze lovingly into my eyes every now and then, but that would be nice on any day, not just today. And I'm willing to wait for a while to find someone who "clicks" with me, not just any pair of adoring eyes.

So I don't see today as a lonely day - or at least any more lonely than usual. Instead, I'll choose to look at it as a day to speculate, and look forward to some day in the future when I find my someone to love. I'll do my best not to dwell on past negative experiences, or focus too intently on that one guy who is semi-holding my attention at the moment. Instead, Valentine's Day can be a celebration of romantic love, instead of relationships. Eventually, I'll meet someone who is right for me.

And it will be difficult, I don't doubt that. I have "issues," and I assume he will as well. But I believe in the power of the right relationship. Right now, I just don't have time (or the biological desire) to fool around for fun. So I'll wait, and anticipate the time I'll again start looking for that someone who sends shivers up my spine just by looking at me, and makes me feel like my life is better with him in it.

Today is a celebration of the certainty of that happening to me someday. I wish all the best to those who today feel they have found that kind of love, or whatever it is their heart most desires.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Imagine two identical boats, a tugboat cord connecting them. Sometimes one ship is pulling the other, sometimes the dependence is reversed. It seems a very useful interdependence - combined, since the ships work together, there is less time spent steering, less fuel consumed, and the burden of navigation is halved.

Now imagine that one of the ships starts going in a strange, dangerous direction that the other refuses to follow. The rogue ship persists, and finally, the still-sane ship cuts the cord, so as to save herself from the madness of her former companion.

An indefinite moment passes. It could be minutes, days, or centuries. But nonetheless, at this moment, the runaway ship is seen in the distance - sinking swiftly, caught in a whirlpool of its own creation. She tries to save it, but knows she would only go down as well. What does our lone boat now think as she sees the last remains of her companion disappear into the murky water? What does she feel? Regret? Loneliness? Disappointment?

Self-sacrifice only amounts to so much. The instinct to survive far outweighs it. Yet, throughout my lifetime, I have repeatedly gone along with my counterparts who choose a "strange, dangerous direction." Always, though, before they sink, I cut the cord in time to save myself. And I've started doing so sooner and sooner from the time they originally stray from the path.

Whenever I become very close to someone male, this happens. Whether friendship or something more is the medium, I always sever the ties. Or I always have before, anyway.

This time, I'm sailing off myself, without entering into any agreement with anyone else. Being friends of the sort of which I speak with someone cripples me, both socially and emotionally. It's not a convienence. I end up giving my all to that person, and I have nothing left for anyone else besides him and myself.

I'm not getting involved with that type of situation for a while. I've always found it easier to make friends when I didn't have someone to fall back on. And currently, though I have sources of support, I have no primary source.

It's better this way. I have to leave my island in the middle of the sea in hopes of finding the mainland; a difficult journey, no doubt, but worth it.

For I do not intend to spend the rest of my days alone. I will bond again, and this time with no ship that self-destructs, or threatens to.

I know that it will hurt, I know that it will break your heart the way things are, and the way they've been, and the way they'll always be...

- slight adaptation from Natalie Merchant

It's been a stressful week for me. I pulled two consecutive all-nighters (with naps, though) to write a paper on Descartes' Meditations, where I think I argued that he should have discarded his method of skepticism as a viable philosophical method, because he couldn't prove it would be useful. Ah, well.

I wonder, too, if I'm compromising my newfound plan of socializing if I have this thought: "If I'm friends with a guy, and I go visit him because I'm bored, that's normal friendship, right? Now, going to him with some problem and expecting him to hold me while I cry, that's the kind of thing I'm trying to avoid. But I can pull the former off...right?"

...No, not right. Of course not, which is why I must do my best to avoid the situation. Strangely enough, though, everyone I know back home, and even a close friend of mine here, seems to be encouraging me to date. Perhaps it appeals to their sadistic impulses to know I'd be causing more pain and suffering in the world, I don't know, but I'm not going for it.

My resolution for the next two weeks is not to cross any lines. I don't know exactly what I mean by that (perhaps because it's 2am), but I'll do my best to adhere to my original social plan. My close friends are girls, dammit, girls! Men and women can't be friends, I learned that from When Harry Met Sally.