Summary

The author, initially averse to Valentine's Day, has come to appreciate it as a moment to acknowledge the hard work and commitment involved in love, including friendships, family, and self-love.

Abstract

The article reflects on the evolution of the author's perspective on Valentine's Day, from childhood excitement to adolescent pressure, and eventually to a rejection of the holiday's commercialization and forced sentimentality. However, after years of partnership and shared experiences, the author found a new appreciation for Valentine's Day as an opportunity to celebrate the resilience and depth of love in its many forms, including the love between friends, family, and oneself. The article emphasizes that love is not a static state but a verb that requires continuous effort and acknowledges the importance of pausing to express love and appreciation, especially in challenging times.

Opinions

Valentine's Day is seen as a commercialized and forced expression of love, pressuring people to conform to societal expectations.
The author's past negative experiences with Valentine's Day, particularly during adolescence, contributed to their initial dislike of the holiday.
Despite previous skepticism, the author experienced a change of heart, recognizing Valentine's Day as a chance to celebrate enduring love and companionship.
Love is described as a complex and dynamic process that involves overcoming challenges, expressing a range of emotions, and consistently showing up for one another.
The author values personal autonomy and dislikes being told when and how to express love, which is why they previously opted out of Valentine's Day celebrations.
The article suggests that love should be celebrated in all its forms, including friendships, familial bonds, and self-love, not just romantic relationships.
The author emphasizes the importance of self-love, quoting Oscar Wilde, and suggests that the most profound romance starts with loving oneself.
The experience of the pandemic has reinforced the author's belief in the significance of acknowledging and celebrating love, as it provides a sense of connection during times of disconnection.

Rethinking Valentine’s Day — From Someone Who Hates It

Love requires constant, daily practice

I remember as a kid how much I loved giving and receiving those cheap, paper Valentines. Even though parents forced their kids to give one to every kid, there was still something magical about peering into that brown paper bag and seeing so many cards from so many kids. It made me feel special.

In middle school, things started to shift, as they tend to do. The forced paper Valentines turned into pressure to give whoever I was “going with” at the time a gift of my love. It was always cologne. To this day, I am still haunted by the smell of Joop and CK One.

In high school, the gifts — and pressure — started to amp up. Suddenly we were buying jewelry and clothes. It was all so awkward…especially if you didn’t have a valentine.

So by the time I got to college and was starting to buck traditional norms, I decided to opt-out of Valentine’s Day and all of its shenanigans. (Although I still happily purchased half-price chocolates from my local drugstore the next day.)

A love story

Ironically, college is where I met my husband, although it’s worth noting that our relationship almost got thwarted by a misunderstanding about…you guessed it…Valentine’s Day.

The Reader’s Digest version is that his friend told him I probably had expectations about the day, which I didn’t (I had made plans with friends and had a great night that I still remember). But it was enough to spook him so he became distant, which I took to mean he wasn’t that interested (our communication skills were less than stellar).

Fortunately, a few years later we got together, improved our communication skills, and it all worked out…at least so far. We’ve been together for over 17 years (married for 12), and we have never celebrated Valentine's Day, a fact I am weirdly proud of.

I generally don’t like being told what, when, and where to do anything, and, to me, Valentine's Day did just that when it comes to love.

It feels like a forced day: forced professing of love; forced purchasing of cheesy cards, random gifts, and overpriced restaurant dinners; forced public displays of affection; and forced pressure for anyone who has a significant other AND those who don’t.

There is no greater pressure on finding a mate than the pressure of Valentine’s Day when you are single. I hated it all and wanted no part of it…until last year.

A change of heart

As February 14th grew closer, something strange happened. I had this uncontrollable urge to buy my husband a cheesy, love-professing Valentine’s Day card. It weirded me out.

Why, after all this time, did I want to buy him a Valentine’s Day card?

After a few days spent marinating on this question, I realized why. Because of all this time together.

For 17 years, we have experienced life together. We have traveled to seven countries, backpacking through three of them; we have moved outside the US and then back into it; we have gone back to grad school, changed careers (more than once), and started a company together. We bought a house, we remodeled a house, and we made two humans. We have grieved the sudden loss of my father-in-law and a few people our own age. We have dealt with health scares, job changes, and all of the challenges that come with raising two humans. All this to say, we have been through a lot of sh*t together.

And through it all, we have come together and fallen apart again and again, as humans tend to do. There are times we are so in-sync and connected, I want to pinch myself, and there are stretches where it feels like we are worlds away from each other.

There are the days we get lost in conversation, and there are the ones where we collapse into bed, having barely spoken a word to each other that didn’t revolve around our kids, scheduling, or a chore. That’s the magic and chaos of doing life with someone.

Both life and love can be incredibly messy. In the midst of that mess, we often forget to pause and say, I see you. I love you. While I don’t like the idea of some predetermined day of love full of expectations, last year I saw Valentine's Day as a moment to pause.

That’s why I wanted to buy him a stupid Valentine's card. In the midst of the chaos, I wanted to acknowledge the magic.

Little did I know, this time last year, that we were about to exponentially multiply the chaos and magic. I didn’t know we were about to be locked down in our house with each other and our two kids, trying to manage life in a profoundly different way.

Looking back, I am so happy I bought the mushy card. It was the pause before the storm. Now that February 14th inches closer, yet again, I find myself rethinking the day once more.

I realize the card to my husband last year was less about celebrating our romantic love and more about acknowledging the friendship and commitment to doing life together. This year, I have an urge to do that again, only this time with the other loves in my life.

I want to send those cheesy paper Valentines we used to get as kids to the friends who dress up and make me laugh on Facetime and to the ones who randomly text to see how I am doing.

I want to acknowledge the people who send me book recommendations, political rants, and hilarious memes, and the ones who have listened to me cry. It’s the people who have buckled up and ridden this rollercoaster of a year with me in some form and fashion. They have made me feel connected during a time of disconnection. And isn’t that what love is about?

Love is a verb

While I’ve never been a fan of Valentine's Day, I do like the idea of celebrating love. And I’m a big fan of words — how they are defined and the meaning we give them. I like how Esther Perel reminds us that love is a verb. It requires action and work.

It’s not some permanent state of joy. It forces us to engage in all kinds of feelings — pleasant ones and uncomfortable ones. It asks a lot of us emotionally, and it requires that we keep showing up for each other.

Valentine’s Day has been branded as the day of love, defined by romance. Not only does this create pressure and leave people out, but it misrepresents love. It doesn’t acknowledge the hard work love requires. And it ignores all the various ways in which we love, like our friendships, our pets, our children, and, most importantly, ourselves.

For many of us, this last one is the hardest and takes the most work. But, as Oscar Wilde once wrote, “To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance.” So if you are looking for romance, start there.

No matter how you slice it, love takes ongoing, hard work. I guess that’s why I have been rethinking Valentine's Day this year and last — because loving each other (and ourselves), especially in our broken world, is hard work. It requires constant, daily practice. And I think that’s something worth celebrating.

Thank you for reading.