Today is Valentine’s Day and like most holidays (real or imagined) out here on the Left Coast, I’ll be spending it alone. I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m growing accustomed to the solitude and anyway it’s pretty passe nowadays to admit to liking Love Day. Most people my age are married and have already done it all already, so they have the luxury of being able to scoff and ignore and dismiss. But I like Valentine’s Day. I sent gifts to the niece and nephews, and on Friday I brought a heart cake to my office and bought lunch for my staff. My parents sent me an adorable package this year with enough candy to fully destroy all my teeth.
Historically this day has not been kind to me. As the new kid for early grade school, my name sometimes got missed on those class lists they send out to make cards. I always managed to break up with a boyfriend either just before or, in one surprisingly forgettable scene, directly on the day (which is exactly the cliche you’re thinking it is, minus much emotional trauma). These last few years I’ve been on the road and among strangers. The few years I was with someone, I foolishly spent a lot of time pretending to agree with him (whichever ‘him’ it was those years) that it wasn’t worth celebrating. I nodded my head to all the arguments, and I gave the replies he wanted to hear. “You’re right, it is ridiculous to spend double the price just for some silly flowers that will die. No no, I agree, love is something that should be expressed every day, not just a random Hallmark day mid-winter. Yes, we’re on the same page – we should definitely not make a big deal about this because it’s crass and commercialized and designed to make you, you specifically, fail.”
Half the blame is on me. I won’t take all the blame. Those twits I was dating were initiating the excuses long before I ever had a chance to validate them. But I never should have told them I didn’t care.
One year I suggested the boyfriend make dinner for a change – no money involved, no grand gesture, just a little time taking one chore off my plate. He refused because he thought agreeing to make dinner on that specific day would send the wrong signal that he was willing to buy into the hype. It’s saying something that the two best Valentine experiences I’ve ever had involved men I wasn’t dating. One year someone ordered me a bottle of wine from my best friend’s shop – and then made the shop call me to tell me it was waiting for me to come pick up. A few years later I helped our office prank a colleague, who then took me for a glass of wine so we could laugh about it.
I’m not at all a gushy person. Valentine’s Day in theory isn’t something I really have a reason to love or hate. But with each passing year, the romantic aspect to the day became so disappointing – not because nothing can ever live up to the hype, but because they all skipped a step. They couldn’t reject the day because they hadn’t tried it. I don’t think my expectations were ever unrealistic. All I ever wanted was for someone to make an effort. I didn’t need flowers. I didn’t need candy or cards or an expensive night out. But what I did need was for someone to think I was worth flowers, candy, dinner, whatever. I needed someone to set aside the evening and say, “I’m broke but you matter, so let’s rent a movie and I’ll hold your hand.”
I don’t want to be That Girl, and so I’m not. I’ve never declared a guerrilla war against February 14. I really enjoy having a reason to send little notes and gifts to my loved ones and to the kiddos especially. I tell them I love them every time I see or talk to them, but I’m fully aware of the power of telling someone you love her on that particular day. I won’t watch a bunch of romcoms – that’s just asking for trouble – but I’ll dye my pasta pink and spend lots of time looking at the dark pink carnations in my vases and I’ll smile at the sweet puff pieces on the local news.
For as much as people belittle all things Valentine, they’re still spending an awful lot of money on something they claim to hate. The card and flower companies aren’t a bunch of sappy romantics; they’re selling because we’re buying. Enough people are participating in this tradition to make it worth their while and so regardless of whether you think it’s ridiculously overpriced and unnecessary, it’s going to keep happening. And from where I’m sitting, refusing to tell someone you love them just because everyone else is doing it that day is just, well, grumpy.
My dad does something special every year for my mom. Dad gets it. It’s not about spending the money or proving you care. It’s about taking the time, on a day set aside for this very reason, to acknowledge that someone is important to you. My friends and the rest of my family can pooh-pooh the notion all they want, but this is something I hope to pass on to my munchkins.
Celebrate love. Do it everyday, and do it in big or small ways. Say ‘I love you,’ then say it again. I want Nella to learn not to look at Valentine’s Day as the standard for romance, but as a day for her to recognize the people she loves. I want Sammy and EC to learn not to be jerks (I want them to learn that in general, too), and not to dismiss the day as a made-up holiday to be boycotted. I want them to be aware, and be kind. I was never upset when every other woman in my office got flowers – I really do think they’re overpriced this time of year – but I certainly wouldn’t have been upset at getting them, either. I want Sam and EC to learn that it’s not about the receiving; it’s about the wanting to send. (And a convo for another blog post, if they don’t want to make her feel special, then that’s their answer and don’t drag things out.)
Love matters. I don’t care if a card company makes money off it. Tell someone today that you love her, and if you have the money buy her a rose. Even if you agreed to skip it this year, because it’s crass and commercialized and designed to make you fail and you made dinner last night and love should be celebrated everyday, tell her you love her. It matters.
Auntie Lyz 