text: February 14th. It was just another day on the calendar for Tom Jensen. Just another day in the office, making sales calls to customers. However, everything and everyone he encountered today was trying to convince him otherwise. Vicky, the secretary by the front door, had pink balloons and candy in abundance. Flowers abounded in every lady’s cubicle. Three giant heart-shaped cakes were in the breakroom at lunch. Everybody took a slice as they made the same joke, “Better not spoil my dinner!” This was followed by excited discussion of evening plans. The expensive restaurants drew the most admiration and awe. Sentimentality and clever romantic ideas were tied for second place. Tom Jensen, age 28, sat there at lunch, not touching the cake. Trying to not even look at the cake, really. As everybody else finished sharing their plans, he started to go back to his desk. He would do anything to avoid The Question. Too late, Rick from accounting noticed him and shouted, “Where is the young stud going to dinner tonight? What is the hottest ticket in town?” Everybody gave their good-natured chuckle and stared for ten minutes. Maybe it was only three seconds, but close enough. Tom then, as he had so many times before, delivered The Response: “I don’t have any plans tonight.” Vicky said, “Oh, why not? You could have anyone you want!” Jerry from engineering said, “Nobody can lock down a player like you!” Dale from HR said, “Nothing wrong with that, you have plenty of time! Enjoy that single life!” All of these responses came at once, in a jumbled flurry of fake, empty encouragement. Tom forced a smile and went back to his desk. A fog began to set in, one where his emotions were clouded. Where his feelings could not escape out, or into him. This was a protective fog to get him through the day. Part of it always stuck around, and it had deepened over time, but Tom did not mind. He really had no other choice. Three coworkers had left valentines and candy on his desk. Amanda, in the cube across from him, had three bouquets of roses sitting on her desk. As Tom stared, she sat down with a fourth. “Your boyfriend must have bought the whole shop,” Tom joked. “Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend. These are just from some of the guys I’ve been dating. Aren’t they beautiful?” Amanda replied. She was genuinely giddy. Tom wanted to puke. “I have another date tonight. Another guy I met online. We are going to a really nice restaurant, so how could I say no?” Tom didn’t reply. He started making calls, trying to close his nose to the smell of flowers. That did not work, just like it had failed that morning. All of his clients also hit him with The Question. And he hit them with The Response. As the afternoon slowly continued, the temptation occasionally hit Tom to be honest. To tell everyone he hated all of this. To tell everyone they were never this excited about their relationships the entire rest of the year. To tell everyone he was so incredibly lonely. The fog thickened, and that temptation went away. Tom had no way of getting out of this. Everybody he met was married or not interested. Trying to flirt with strangers at the grocery store was creepy. None of the married people he knew ever bothered to try to set him up with anybody. He spent most days alone in his apartment, where he did not meet girls, and the cycle continued. Clearly there was something deeply wrong with him. Everybody else had it figured out, but not Tom Jensen. Tom had tried being honest before. Sometimes it was too much to hold in, and some variation of the term “very single” poured out of him. That always led to an avalanche of Helpful Replies. “If I was your age, I would be partying all the time.” “There are so many fish in the sea, you will meet somebody.” Tom didn’t want a fish, he wanted a woman. “You have time. You are way too young to even worry about that.” “I found my spouse when I wasn’t even looking. Contentment is the key, then you will find somebody.” The most helpful, though, was silence. Complete silence from every last married man who Tom genuinely sought advice from. None of them cared the slightest bit about helping him, they just wanted to discuss any other topic. As soon as any man got married, they chose to forget what it was like to be single, and chose to be completely useless to all the men struggling in the pool they just left. The awkwardness amused Tom. It was always exciting for people to discuss relationships. They never shut up about their wives, constantly mentioning them in every story, decision and concern they had about anything at all. But as soon as Tom mentioned singleness, the other side of the coin, it was somehow taboo. Nobody cared about that, or those in that. Nobody cared about Tom Jensen. Tom slogged through his calls, making a few sales. He should have taken the day off, he knew all of this would make him nearly sick. If only he was allergic to flowers. Or the color pink. However, the end of the day was near, and he was rewarding himself with better food than he could ever make. Food to stuff himself with, then fall asleep as soon as possible. Tom pulled out his phone, and placed an order to get on his way home. It occurred to him that he got dinner with the same ease that Amanda got dates. Everybody said that was the modern way to do it, but Tom refused. He could not just pick from a sea of faces, no matter how much everyone else touted it. He had to meet someone first, somehow, instead of meeting up and hoping for the best. Instead of using them for a couple hours of entertainment. His apparently warped view on all of this had to do that. And that was why he would forever be alone. Tom left for the restaurant, and got there early. Early enough to watch all of the happy couples stream in. Early enough that he had time to think, and dwell on what was so wrong with him. If he knew, maybe he could fix it. If he could cry, maybe he could at least release everything he had bottled up. But Tom could not cry, he could only feel the emotion. Wear it on his face. Make everybody too concerned to approach. The fog thickened, and no tears arrived. Tom walked in and sat at the bar. His food would be a couple minutes, so he watched the TV. He tried to not watch the happy couples. Somebody walked by and said, “Tom?” Tom turned. It was John, an employee in accounting. He got married last summer. “Hey man,” Tom said. He had no more energy for this. He wanted his food and his solitude. John stared at the TV too, “I’m sorry about lunch today. Rick sucks. And being single really, really sucks. I know that is not helpful, and I wish I had advice for you. But anyway, enjoy your dinner and try not to think about this stupid holiday.” “Yes, it astronomically sucks,” Tom replied. Rick gave him a hard, quick hug and clapped him on the back as he walked off. Tom smiled. The fog slightly lifted.