I totally take requests

 Look! I got a request. Gentleman's Time, your wish has been granted.

Dear Rachel,

While I'll be following your advice, can you please recommend some Valentine's Day activities that I can do ALONE that night in the event that I'm unsuccessful. I mean I could just stay home, watch The Notebook and listen to "Circles" by Mariah Carey on repeat as I cry myself to sleep but I already do that every night. Kthnx!

Okay. You are alone and it's Valentine's Day. You are totally doomed. The cats are going to eat you.  You can take this lying down or you can do something about it.  You have some options. 

Sad Dancing:  
Mariah Carey is good, but Mary J. Blige is better. I recommend doing an aerobic, ballet-inspired interpretive dance to "No More Drama".  This should look like a cross between Black Swan and that terrifying dance scene in Silence of the Lambs. Not only will you get some exercise, but if you're doing it properly you will start crying half-way through and release some of that pent-up emotion. 

Make Everyone Else Feel Uncomfortable: 
You know what? Screw all those self-satisfied couples. Why should they be happy? Rich people don't get congratulated when they venture into the ghetto. They get stabbed. I can only assume that when you cry yourself to sleep at night, you're doing it at home, alone. Oh wait, the shower? Probably not very safe, but whatever. You need to take it to the next level. Go to a very romantic place (I recommend Pix). Order something decadent. Sit down and start sobbing. Smear that cake on your face. Spill things. If you haven't ruined everyone's date in ten minutes, you aren't crying hard enough. 

Throw Away The Notebook: 
I honestly don't think The Notebook is a good idea. If you're stuck on Ryan Gosling (it's understandable), Blue Valentine may be a better film for you. This movie will show you that even true love fades and becomes bitter, bitter hate. However, I think an even more inspiring choice would be The Last of the Mohicans. Romance/violence you can believe in, suicide, and hatchet-throwing. Who would you rather be? An old man sitting in a retirement home reading to an Alzheimer's patient or Daniel Day-Lewis in a loin cloth? That's what I thought.