Valentine’s day. Another manufactured holiday designed to make us spend all our money and feel under pressure if we’re in a relationship, bitterly down wine after wine whilst shouting along to Kelly Clarkson if we’re single or try our luck at a horrendous lock and key party if we’re young and up for it. We don’t have this with pancake day!
I’ve heard many a self-assured sistah claim that they have no time for Valentine’s day because “you-should-show-your-loved-ones-how-you-feel-about-them-each-and-everyday-and-love-and-care-and-hold-and-shower-them-with- affection- and-romantic-gestures, lad-eee!”. Which is fair enough. But for those of us who slowly fall into the trap of “being comfortable” with one another where you find yourself wearing stained tracky bottoms to bed (to cover hairy legs) and spend night after night being more physical in the shower (hair washing can be hard work) than in the bedroom, a day which encourages a little bit of effort is something to look forward to. Not for the whole year mind. It’s not Christmas.
Wayne and Waynetta: Comfortable or complacent?
But with all that said and done, I’m hardly one to go running into Clintons buying up all the unnecessary crap that can only be out of its box for one day before it becomes embarrassing (no one wants to see fluffy nonsense about the place unless it’s a kitten). I don’t buy those often deformed synthetic chicks at Easter to be the pride of my mantelpiece, brittle plastic skeletons for Halloween nor special addition coal for Ash Wednesday. In fact, I don’t purchase any tacky delights for Valentine’s Day; receiving mass produced token make you feel as special as spam in your inbox.
So what for it? Oysters? Champagne? Rose petals in the bath? If you want. Or heading out to a restaurant bursting at the seams with shmoozy “officially in love” couples? Maybe not so much. Crikey, imagine table after table of saccharine sweethearts, each couple trying to out-romance each other. I present thee a rose. I present thee a rose on one knee. I present thee a rose, balancing on one knee from a rare pink Indian Elephant. Who know what could happen!
And why is it all so fluffy??? What has fluff got to do with the story? Mr “lover lover” Valentine married couples in secret, when the evil Emperor Claudius outlawed marriage for young men, as he thought it made them pussies at war! But when Valentine was discovered being an undercover match maker, he was put to death.
More of a romance killer then turning on the lights.
The most romantic gesture I made on V-Day was a homemade card, inspired by art attack that I sent to two boys on two separate occasions when I was six. And the only Valentine gesture I ever received was a rose with “I lost my phone number, can I borrow yours” attached to it from a “secret admirer” who put his name at the bottom. Maybe women are better at these things.
So Valentine’s Day. Generally, it makes me feel like I’ve eaten too many chocolates from my metaphorical Milk Tray but I like the sentiment. But please remember: there’s no need to perform for an audience; it doesn’t have to be a showdown. And if all else fails, originality can only be a good thing.