If you dare request a table for one on Cupid’s busiest night,
Facing hostess with grin, devoid of any fright.
If you can brave storms of “Solo? On this day?”
And deflect pity with chuckle, turning dismay into play.
If you can cherish liberty in picking your own feast,
Savoring each morsel, from the greatest to the least.
If memes of eternal solitude can spark your hearty laughter,
And solo Netflix marathons are your happily ever after.
If you can weather Aunt Opal’s relentless pairing raids,
And deflect with grace, as her matchmaking fervor fades.
If solitude’s joy is yours, sans a hand to clutch,
Dancing unseen, in your solo rapture much.
If you can bask in your autonomy, unshakably firm,
Esteeming your value, whether solo or in a partnered term.
Then you, valiant soul, have your fragile pride denied.