february is always for the loners

I love me a cold, gray February.

Between January’s annual burst of new year’s resolve and March’s springy desire to be born again, February gives me space to just be.

This is the latest soap box I’m on (last month’s was about how to live a more analog life). And because my love affair with the shortest month of the year can’t be summed up in one pithy phrase, I wrote a whole blog post about it:

🌻 Embrace Being a Loner—Why February Is the Perfect Time​

In the spring, there’s too much pressure to “take advantage” of the first sunny days. In the summer, there are beaches and lakes and patios and barbecues calling your name, and you feel guilty if you turn down these opportunities to stay home in your cocoon. And in the fall and winter, there are far too many seasonal activities to dominate your leisure time. Fun as these holiday festivities may be, when they’re too abundant, it’s hard to tell them apart from the obligations on your eternal to-do list. But February is a loner’s haven. It’s your cold-weather, dark-day invitation to go ahead: Waste the day. Stay inside and relax. Do as much (or as little) as you want, and laze to your heart’s content. READ​

Welcome to Issue No. 002 of A Merry Loner’s Digest—your distillation of the last month’s articles, oddities, and assorted occurrences. Or as I chaotically like to call it: musings on finding merriment among the monotony, misery, and malaise.

Posts You May Have Missed

🌻 Books for Existential Dread​

Whether it’s work struggles, family strife that is slowly making you develop an ulcer, or Big Bad Politics rearing its ugly head and taking your sanity and sense of joy with it, existential dread is a constant companion I just can’t seem to ghost. So when old existential dread comes a-knockin’, I try to find solace in books—but not the classic fictional reads in which the monsters are manufactured, the endings endearing, and the characters’ flaws cathartic. In times of trouble, I need poetry. Self-help books dressed up as philosophy. And yes, maybe even a novel or two—but they should be poignant enough to make me ponder. READ​

🌻 Looking Inward: Why Shelby DiNobile Decided to Get Off Social Media & What He Learned​

In the third installment of our Loner Q&A series, I spoke with fashion production manager, Shelby DiNobile on why he decided to get off social media for a year—not an easy feat when you work in the high-speed fashion industry and you’re used to keeping up with a big network of friends and colleagues. But Shelby says he needed what he calls his “Loner Year” to take a step back, slow down, and look inward. In his words: “I needed to get away from all the distractions I had built around myself.” READ​

🌻 No Date? No Problem—A Guide to Dating Yourself in 2025​

GUEST POST ALERT! Eleanor Jones is freelance writer based in the UK. This month, she gave all aspiring Merry Loners a how-to on learning to enjoy spending time with yourself. In her words: “Dating yourself doesn’t have to be cheesy, awkward, embarrassing, or the myriad of other things you’re probably thinking. It’s about learning how to feel comfortable in your own company—and not waiting until you have a partner to do the things you love.” READ​

🌻 How to Celebrate a Loner’s Valentine Day​

Ah, Valentine’s Day. Yet another day manipulated by modern man to make us feel bad about ourselves or spend too much money on crap we don’t need. (Or both.) But I get it. People like to have fun! And sometimes in our spiraling world of moral decay, greed, and unspeakable political debauchery, clinging to these rosy, Hallmark holidays is all we have. If that’s what you’re into, then I warmly raise my glass to you. No matter your situation, sometimes the best Valentine’s Day gift you can receive is from yourself: a night dedicated to nothing but your own interests. Here’s how: READ​

🌻 26 Best Bars in Providence: Insider Tips from a Native Rhode Island-er​

For my solo travelers out there. I’m not ashamed to admit that I spent many of the wee hours of the morning between the ages of 21 and 23 prowling the streets of Providence with my gang of misfit acquaintances. I worked in public relations; one guy worked with ex-cons; one girl worked at an Ivy League; one bloke was even a pilot. It was very Cheers-y of us, and most nights felt like a sepia-toned movie montage—the part in the movie where all the wayward souls start to become friends. And the mise en scène was always Providence, Rhode Island. If you need a good night out in Providence, you’ve come to the right place for advice. READ​

A Merry Loner’s Community

🌻 852 new Merry Loners joined our community. (We’re all over the place now!)

• 285 more people subscribed to A Merry Loner’s newsletter. That makes us 373+ (almost four times the number of people who came to my wedding).
• 527 people joined us on Instagram. Now we’re a tiny crowd of Merry Loners at 726+ strong.
• Apparently none of the cool kids are on Facebook anymore (I know, Zuckerberg, ew). But 40 people came aboard for a small-but-mighty community of 50+.

Jump in—the water’s great.

sign up for emails that give you Loner Q&As, access to the Merry Loner community, and encouraging stories and recommendations on personal growth, books, wellbeing, and travel.

🌻 More readers sent us love letters.

(It’s happening. People are sick of the digital and are getting ready to learn how to live a more analog life.)

Merry Loners are international! “I assiduously follow all your newsletters and it's a pleasure to read.”

And In the Real World…

• I hosted a friend I haven’t seen in a year for a lovely weekend.
• I went to Sacré Coeur twice in one week—once in rain, and once in sunshine.
• I ate a gluten-free pain au chocolat that made me almost remember what bread tastes like.
• I saw this important documentary from Mediapart (an independent nonprofit French investigative online newspaper) that recounts the 14-year investigation led by journalists Fabrice Arfi and Karl Laske into the trial of the Libyan financing of the 2007 French election campaign: Personne n'y comprend rien.

Happy February. Until next time,

Merry