Yes, it's Valentine's Day. Once again, hoardes of men stream to the shops in the hopes of unearthing something that expresses his opinion in a wholly unique and chocolatey way. It's like your local supermarket becomes some sort of battle arena for men desperate to prove themselves to their partners.
I'm being deliberately harsh, in honesty. It is not just men milling to the shops in their droves, of course.
Let me be clear - I have nothing against romance, in fact I quite like it, in all its varied forms, from sugary sweet to tragic and passionate, from practical to slightly unrealistic. But I am a fervid believer in the notion that it should be borne out of a genuine love and desire for it.
This is where Valentine's Day falls short of the mark.
I am of the opinion that VD (how ironic), by ever-increasingly selling itself as the most important (if not the only) day of the year to express your feelings for someone, has in fact made hundreds of thousands of men and women feel pressurised into buying bigger and better cards, bouquets and chocolates for their partners, and presenting them in bigger and more expensive gestures, because it's what Bob and Mary-Sue are doing. It's peer-pressure, commercialised. And that sucks. Because peer-pressure isn't romantic.
Here is an example of what VD does to people and how they approach gift-giving in their relationships: My manager in work yesterday, upon learning that I was about to go to the supermarket to buy my lunch, gave me a ten pound note and told me to get his wife a card for valentine's day.
He said to me: "We said we weren't doing anything, but she'd kill me if I didn't". Since when does Valentine's Day get to override a decision mutually made by two consenting, married adults? It defies logic.
Then I said to him, whilst putting the tenner into my purse, "What kind of card do you want me to get - flowery and sweet, wordy, funny, funky, sappy...what?" And this is the response I got, I kid you not:
"One about this big" (whilst outlining the size he meant with his hands in a vague box shape).
This is quite possibly the least romantic thing I have ever heard in my entire life, on one of the most apparently romantic days of the year. But the fact remains, he probably would have wanted to put some thought and effort into if he didn't feel as though he "had" to get one.
Anyway, off I go to the store, and obviously the Valentine's crap is on your immediate right and front as you enter, so it can remind you of what a bad person you are when you realise upon seeing them that you actually forgot about it, effectively guilt tripping you into declaring your love for your, well....love.
The first trial was having to barge my way through (and I'm sorry, but this true) an exclusively male crowd of people, who then proceeded to give me weird looks for rifling through the many "To my Wife" cards. Having the incredibly limited description of the desired product at my disposal, I had to open and read the majority of the ones there. In honesty, I was sorely tempted to get the most nauseating card I could find, but I decided to go for something a little less sickening, because I don't really have anything against my manager's wife.
That mission accomplished, I went through the store towards the foody bits. Whilst walking past the vegetables, I cast my discerning eye over the asparagus. I'm quite fond of asparagus, I find it very tasty. This particular supermarket had two boxes of asparagus in their normal packaging - i.e. shrink-wrapped with a rectangular blue label with the word "Asparagus" in a practical, no-nonsense font (think arial, or helvetica) Behind and above these innocent packs of asparagus, I see...dun dun duhhhh! More asparagus. But the thing that set these boxes of asparagus aside was the fact that it had disposed of the blue label, and opted for a pink heart shaped one. Inside the heart, the word "Asparagus" had been dribbled over the front in some ridiculous, pink, italic, calligraphic drawl. I couldn't quite understand the seemingly desperate marketing ploy, and the image of somebody saying "darling, to show you how much I love you, I cooked you some asparagus", utterly failed to pop into my head.
Having said all of the above, I am sitting here with a beautiful, small bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates in front of me from my boyfriend, and he in return will be getting a sumptuous home cooked (read: burned) meal and some wine. We'll probably cuddle up on the sofa and enjoy each other's company and conversation. But that doesn't mean that on every other day of the year (apart from birthdays and anniversaries of course) we ignore each other, slob out and fart in bed, and generally not make any effort to spend quality time together because it's no longer Valentine's Day.
Of course it's not all bad - I can very easily see how it can help in some situations, for example, teen romances and shy adults. Those incapable or nervous about taking the step towards professing their feelings for another suddenly have a wealth of material to choose from, and the 24 hour window of opportunity in which to do it.
Like I said, I need to make it clear that I don't actually have a problem with Valentine's day in itself, nor the fact that many people choose to revere it as a day of romanticism. I just take serious issue with the fact that we seemingly HAVE to do what it says just because it exists, more so because the card companies and supermarkets feel the need to cash in on everything that exists ever, including romance.
I'm off to buy ingredients for a pink peppercorn sauce.
Hairwire
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