Valentine’s Day is supposed to be a romantic holiday—but in my experience, it frequently inspires feelings of desperation, inadequacy, and loneliness. 

Whether you’re single or in that vaguely-erotic-and-amorous-yet-poorly-defined dynamic with someone we like to call a situationship, Valentine’s Day is a time where people who are expecting big romantic gestures, bouquets, and dates can become keenly aware of the lack of flower deliveries at their door. 

Instead of spending this Feb. 14 feeling sorry for yourself, envying the relationships of others, or planning an anti-Valentine’s Day celebration with your gal pals, spend the evening doing something healthier and more obviously pleasant: masturbating!

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I force myself to be completely unproductive for one day every week: no catching up on posters for my graphic design gig, no freelance emails to my managers about the podcast I’m editing, no work on my novel, no writing this column. I recently woke up on one such day feeling sort of aimless and vaguely horny, unmoored by the lack of work. 

I pulled out my phone on my couch and started to assume the classic posture of a singleton at 9 a.m. on a Saturday: one hand poised on my crotch while the other one went searching for internet pornography to mindlessly masturbate to. 

But, I decided I deserve better. Why jerk off mindlessly on the couch when I could roll out the red carpet for myself?

I set the mood with the psychedelic rock playlist I usually play during hookups, pulled out all my lubes—from my trusty jar of Boy Butter to the tube of emergency AstroGlide usually lost under my bed—and dusted off my robotic blowjob machine and my dildo. 

I truly showed up for myself that day, and all by myself, I achieved the kind of full-body orgasm that I usually associate with a particularly good lay. I was........

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