It strikes me today (well, yesterday) that I am one of a minority who actually like Valentine’s Day. And this saddens me. As far as I am concerned Valentine’s Day is an excuse to do something silly (whether it’s stalking your schoolgirl crush, badly-disguising your handwriting in an anonymous card or sending 100 red roses and a book of 71th-Century verse to the girl in the office) – and this is not merely limited to the coupled and/or unromantic. We’ve all done it, haven’t we?
Don’t try to tell me it’s because I have a boyfriend, either! I don’t think it should matter whether you actually have someone to share Valentine’s Day with romantically – or why it should matter more than any other day. (In fact, surely Valentine’s Day is an even better excuse to meet someone new…?) Sure, when I was 11 and all the other girls in my class got huge helium balloons and teddy bears from the popular boys it kind of sucked, but even then I was mostly happy for them, realising that there were more important things in life and the sooner I got over it the less bitter I’d be in future. And, I’m pleased to say, I’ve grown out of that jealous feeling. Whether I’m single or not, 14th Feb is just another day on which you can choose to do something romantic – how other people choose to spend it is no concern of mine. I mean, really, have some perspective people. It’s only one day of the year. What’s the difference?
Perhaps I’m wrong to see this as just a good excuse to go away together or send a present. Perhaps I should be disappointed in myself for enjoying telling someone that I love them on Valentine’s Day. But I can’t. What I think is more wrong is the suggestion that I wouldn’t do these things on any other day of the year. Why the hell not?! I would, and I do. The fact that I also choose to do them today of all things is irrelevant. What annoys me is the assumption that because I like Valentine’s Day I’m some sort of demanding harpy who will bawl her eyes out if she doesn’t receive red roses, chocolates, satin-covered cushions and surprise expensive mini-breaks. Yeah, those things would be good (well, not the cushion. And if a massive card or heart-wielding teddy bear comes near me I may well be sick), but they’re good whenever. And the fact that I didn’t get any of them today doesn’t make me more bitter or depressed about Valentine’s day.
In fact, if you want to get very technical, I wasn’t expecting anything this morning. And it didn’t break my heart. I didn’t even remember until about half past nine. And yes, sure, technically it’s a Valentine’s trip we’re taking this coming weekend, but as it’s not on the actual day does that make you hate me more or less?