Whether you're reading this before or after Valentine's Day, it doesn't matter, so please take note. On February 14 there might have been a knock on your door. You answered it expecting it to be the neighbor girl selling candy for a fundraiser for school or your FedEx guy dropping off something for someone. But instead you found a rocker, vampire-werewolf billionaire that happened to be the attractive step-sibling you didn't know you had, who also moonlights as a hockey player and a bartender in his/her free time when they're not trying to fool everyone with their arrogant, uncaring front that you, of course, can see right through.

So, maybe that sounds a little like your Goodreads 2016 TBR (To Be Read) list.

The truth is, if you're like me, you probably equate Valentine's Day with being alone, where you vow that next year, it'll be the opposite. The only love I know other than what I've seen from those around me (my mom and dad are still going strong at over 26 years together), is the purely fictional kind. The kind with a formula that sometimes the best of minds can manufacture in a new, intriguing way. I want to be one of those minds. I want to write the types of romance novels for college age people that will have reader crying and throwing their books at the wall, then picking it up, hugging it and smiling as they gush about it. Except how can I write about love if I haven't experienced it myself? If I’ve only read about it and seen it second hand?

Because I can dream, that's how. When I write, I'm writing what I want for my future. Okay, so maybe I don't want the dysfunctional side of the leading men I write (and there must be a dysfunctional side because without it, there's not much of a story unless someone else is dysfunctional) but I do want the good side. The side where he puts aside everything else against him because of his true, never-ending ultimate love—the side that trust and promises of a future is built from.

I know that books aren't real life, but fiction is a mirror of our reality. In either you will find morals, conflicts, bigger meanings, consequences and happiness. But there's so much more, too. After reading a lot of romance novels I've cooked up the sort of man I expect to spend my Valentine's Day with and no, he's not that TBR heartthrob hottie that makes for a good read. I don't have a distinct picture of my guy in my mind or know his name (believe me, if I did, he'd be hunted down and this article would've never been written), but I do know that he needs to have a grin that makes me smile and eyes that twinkle when he's happy or when he's looking at me. He needs to have a personality that meshes with mine, but can still clash sometimes to cause friction so that we never get bored. I need someone who's not afraid to take a chance or have fun because sometimes I get too quiet and comfortable and don't want to welcome change. I just need someone, and that someone will be perfect when he walks into my life. Perfect for me, at least.

But until he finally does grow the courage (and cajones) to come into my life, he's going to have to face the music: for every book I read and for every one I write, there's going to be a leading man he'll have to beat. When he finally does arrive, he'll hopefully be the one I compare every leading man to. The basis and foundation for love (other than familial) that I haven't had until him. Still, if you’re out there reading this, please hurry up, dude.

You've heard Valentine's Day called Singles Awareness Day and I'll admit that sometimes when I walk through the aisle drowned in love and hearts and red in Kroger's that I get a little Valentine's-Day/I'm-going-to-live-in-my-parents-basement-when-I'm-fifty-and-have-thirty-cats blues, but soon that is replaced with green and leprechauns and the bigger worry becomes finding time in the flood of papers and exams to actually be a human being—socialization and romance becomes the least of our problems.

If I had someone, I have no doubt that this would be a bubbly article about the joys of love, but I don't mean for this to be pessimistic, either. Because mark my words, as of this post, I'm making Valentine's Day the new New Years for singles who don't want to be single anymore. On Valentine's Day evening while everyone else is out on a date, you will hold your book or movie or Taylor Swift CD or whatever and make a pact with your heart to find someone, even if it's the type of love that'll last for one Valentine's Day while you wait for your everlasting one. You don't deserve to be alone or feeling sad on Valentine's Day because you deserve love, too. Promise yourself to take a leap, to take a chance because according to most books I've read (and I only read the happy ending kind, so that's optimism at its finest) love is worth the leap.

I’m tired of spending each year hoping for the best, but being cautious by telling myself that I probably will be in the same spot as I am every year where I’m wishing and missing and pretending that Jensen Ackles is beating down my door begging for me to love him. Next year is going to be different and I hope that you’re on the same page with me. I hope that I’ll see you at the movies or at a nice restaurant or in a carriage ride through the city, you with your significant other and me with my man, and we’ll smile at each other knowingly because we got what we want and we made it happen. Because we took matters into our own hands and made love a part of our life.

So here’s to a happy New Valentine’s Day—what’s your resolution? And oh, I’m not saying to give up those books. Never give them up—book boyfriends are key to a happy life. Just put them aside one day a year for a vacation in real life and love.