For as long as I can remember, Jordan and I haven’t celebrated Valentine's Day. And I’m not mad about it. It’s never held a level of significance for either of us, but it’s now morphed into precisely the same day as February 13th or February 15th will be… a normal one. In fact this year, he's in another country skiing while I’m working from home quite ironically nursing a sprained ankle. It’s the mundane days though, those February 13th’s and July 9th's, the hard days, the bad days and everything in between that matter. I’ll take someone that will show up through those over someone who will show up on 14th February with a bouquet of roses.
Surely it's the anniversaries that hold sentimental worth. An anniversary marks another year in a story, any kind of story, which feels so much more worthy of a (little) celebration. It’s a day that nobody else thinks twice about, whereas Valentine’s Day is splattered around in a collage of pinks, reds, flowers and lace bras. It has spiralled into what can feel like a competition of egos and bravado, each fighting one another to impress the most prominently either through a gift given or a romantic gesture received - totally to the (usually female) recipient’s ‘surprise’. That’s how it feels as a passive Instagram participant today anyway.
Valentine’s Day is one of the most annoying days for checking social media, yet somehow the desire to continually scroll and see who’s got the best present or who’s posted the sweetest photo has a powerful pull. It’s bizarrely unmissable content. And it can be really tricky for the younger generation. Must not look; but equally must continue gawking from afar, desperately trying to decide if the feeling inside is one of jealousy or resentment.
Everyday on social media brings a constantly turning wheel of highlights, snippets into people’s lives, the pieces they want to be seen. But today it’s often escalated to new heights. Today is the day to truly remember that what we see is not in fact the everyday reality, but is rather a collection of predetermined glittery and happy snapshots.
I’ve not always been so firm in my thinking. I’ve absolutely given in to the pressure of social media before by posting something about Jordan on 14th February, genuinely looking forward to a flurry of responses. In our first few years together, I felt that it was a normal thing to do. Looking back on those posts makes me feel nostalgic. My happiness was 100% true, and not at all exaggerated, which when entering into the eleventh 14th February with the same person is pretty bloody fantastic. But it also makes me feel odd, remembering how much pressure I used to put on myself to create the sacred Valentine’s Day Facebook post. Just because it feels like everyone does. It felt like the ‘right thing to do’ because I had a partner. And if I didn’t, then I should have been planning a Galentine’s date night with my huge group of friends on speed dial.
It’s not about what probably reads as blatant refusal to partake in an occasion because of avoiding consumerism. But that being said, there is no denying how much Valentine’s Day seems to grow exponentially year on year. I’ve never been out for a meal on 14th February, I salute those who do and their bank accounts. I’m pretty sure restaurants double their prices for this night, and it’s bound to be busy while brimming with those ever-faithful public displays of affection over a bowl of spaghetti - not quite mastering the Lady And The Tramp iconic scene. Instead of spending money because the calendar says so, I say spend it when happy hour is running and garlic bread is half price.
Come to think of it, I can’t recall ever feeling excited for Valentine’s Day. For Christmas or a birthday, there’s a certain hype beforehand where everything is planned to a tee so sleeping the night before can be almost impossible. But by the time we get to February, my bank account is still recovering from Christmas and birthdays are round the corner so to be honest, it’s quite an inconvenience.
And yes, should someone desire it, the day can be celebrated without a penny escaping the tightly woven purse strings. But as far as gloomy days that fall in a pretty mundane month go, it can be a struggle to see the point. There should be love in everyday, and the best sort of romantic celebrations are the unexpected ones. When it’s an obligation, there becomes a pressure to live up to on a constantly rising pedestal that carries last year’s gift carefully in tow.
Perhaps it’s a longevity thing; the longer a partnership, friendship or any loving relationship has behind it, the less relevant Valentine’s Day feels. I don’t think it’s being unromantic, or noncommittal to a friendship, but more seeing joy in the simple everyday. I’m thankful for every boring day when I work, joke around with Jordan, hoover the flat, cook some food, watch TV, write an article… and do the same the next day. Then when our anniversary comes around, we get to celebrate another year of this wonderfully normal thing we call life together. I genuinely believe there is beauty in the simplest of things, not in a predetermined day forced upon us.
Take some time to appreciate all the other love in life. The love that doesn’t discriminate, doesn’t go away or feel bound by restrictions, and doesn’t highlight one small not-so-impulse moment. That’s what matters. Spraining your ankle and discovering that you already have a frozen ice pack specifically for an injury like this; that's love. Love for myself. And this is coming from someone watching the horrendously cringey Love Is Blind on Netflix while typing this. (And yes, ordering a pizza alone is 1000% acceptable today and any day in the calendar).