My perfect Valentine? Me.

I found myself getting nervous around a group of gay men for the first time in a long time. I was invited to attend a gay sauna wellness experience (without a dark room, because if you know, you know). After checking in and being given the green light to head into the locker room to change into our swimsuits, I could feel my heart beating faster, and the nerves started to settle in. It was a packed room filled with fit, muscular, mainly white gay men, all being comfortable enough to strip naked in front of one another.

I was immediately taken back to the feelings of being in a high school locker room, which is so cliché and stupid, but it's how I felt. And it was such a strong emotion because it's been what feels like years since I felt this way. In the past year, I've been going to more bear parties, and in these spaces, I can feel my shoulders relax, my jaw unclench, and I can stand taller (than my already 6'7" stature). In these spaces, I feel desired and find myself attracted to the dozens of shirtless men as everyone admires one another's bodies.

The more I started going to these spaces, the better I've felt about myself and how much less I was willing to accept from — not just potential partners — but from people in general, which, in turn, made me realize the joys of being single. There are a number of factors that contributed to this newfound excitement about my relationship status, but going to more bear parties was definitely the catalyst.

I’ve done so much work unlearning the negative feelings I’ve had about my body — I personally think I’m an attractive person, even with my flaws, but it’s not just this meat sack that I call a body. I know how intelligent I am, how I show up for my friends, the relationships I have with my family, and how much love I’m surrounded by. These are the aspects of my life that I find most valuable.

Nor is it about my desire to be in a relationship; I’ve gotten to the point of being single where I love it. Whenever the person who is lucky enough to call me their partner enters my life, they need to be a positive addition to my life. I’ve never really had a serious relationship, and this time alone has really given me the chance to start dating myself. My friends know that I love being around them, and I often invite them to work events, Broadway shows, dinners, and outings with me if I’m able to bring plus ones. That’s mainly because I’m a Leo, but also because if my friends can reap the benefits of my job, why not?

There are so many instances, though, when I’m alone because I just did a work thing, and I need to grab lunch, or I’m seeing a movie by myself, I’ve become more accustomed to being alone. The thought of being alone used to scare me, and I used to get bored because I was so wrapped up in the idea of wanting to be in a relationship. I felt like I needed to be in one because everyone around me was. I’ve always been the person that my friends relied on for advice, especially dating advice, and I still am.

Talking to my friends about their horror stories, erm, I mean relationship woes, has helped me reframe the narrative of needing to be in a relationship to wanting to be in one. I don’t need to just take any person that comes into my life. I don’t want a partner who takes advantage of my kindness or someone who doesn’t love every single thing about me, who is worth having around.

I’m so tired of dating men who don’t excite me, who don’t make my heart flutter, like truly jump when I get a text from them (without the games of "who texts who when" and all that bullshit). I was having a conversation about this with my cousin, and I told them, “If my man doesn’t think I’m the hottest, smartest, coolest, sexiest person, then he’s not for me.” And they responded back with, “Isn’t that a high bar to clear?”

“ THAT’S THE BARE MINIMUM!” I’m not saying I need to be this person’s entire world, nor they mine, but they need to pick me at the end of the day, every day. No relationship is perfect, and I’m not expecting mine to be.

About two years ago, I read Drew Afualo’s book, Loud: Accept Nothing Less Than the Life You Deserve, and the title says it all. It’s a feminist manifesto about not accepting less than what you think you deserve, and you don’t need to be a woman to heed her teachings. I took away two of the most helpful ideologies that I’ve built my life around: body neutrality and de-centering men.

We put so much stock in talking about, thinking about, and centering our conversations on me and romantic love. In almost every conversation I have with friends, I get asked, “So are you dating anyone right now?” Or “How’s your love life?” Two totally fine questions I don’t mind answering honestly, but if that’s the only topic we can hinge our conversation on and all we talk about is your relationship (this mainly goes for my straight girls dating shitty straight men), then I’m going to start looking at you differently. A lot of women claim to be feminists, but once a man comes into the picture, every feminist bone leaves their body, and they let these men walk all over them time and time again. I don’t mind dishing out advice when it’s asked for and only when I know it’s going to be taken to heart. I’m not wasting my breath on giving the same advice over and over.

It’s the most freeing feeling to de-center men. And the way I’ve learned to do so is by doing the internal work of being kinder to myself and my body, giving myself more grace and patience to come to have a healthier relationship with my body. I constantly reminding myself to speak kinder to myself, give myself more compliments when I feel up for it, and celebrate my wins when they happen.

One ideology that really helped is body neutrality. Neutrality is a counter-narrative to the body positivity movement that asserts you must love your body. Neutrality centers on the idea that you don’t have to feel strongly about loving or hating your body, rather you’re grateful for your body and that you’re grateful for all the things you can do: smile, laugh, jump, run, cry, scream, etc. It’s a beautiful way to think about our corporeal presence on Earth, and it's helped me rethink the way I think about my body, highlighting the things I do like about myself and recognizing there is more I can do for my body, but not letting that define my worth.

My friends can attest to the fact that I've started to accept my single-dom, and I don’t foresee this feeling changing anytime soon. I’ve been saying it out loud more because I catch myself getting giddy at the thought of loving myself more and building a deeper connection with all the things I love about myself. And I feel like the more I like myself, the easier to accept what I’ve prioritized myself and my happiness. It’s not just on Valentine’s Day that I feel this way, it’s every day until I go to the great beyond.

Moises Mendez II is a staff writer at Out magazine. Follow him on Instagram @moisesfenty.

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