I hate Valentines' Day. If there was a Valentines' Scrooge, then I'd be it. Bah humbug to the whole lot of it.
My abhorrence of this particular day registers on two levels. The first, and surface, level is because I have just been through a particularly traumatic - he was married; I didn't know; now I do - break-up and am feeling mighty cynical and disgusted with the whole idea of love and romance. Yet, I have experienced Valentines' Days whilst in relationships and haven't really enjoyed them much more. The second is because I find it generally annoying and overdone.
There's the pressure. From about age 15, when boys started to hold great appeal, and when February 14 rolled round, everyone waited in anticipation to see who would and would not receive any tokens of affection. When I eventually left school and worked, the office would be abuzz with people, mostly women, I admit, swapping stories and checking out each others' floral arrangements.
Unfortunately, I have also developed a real dislike of roses rating them up there with carnations as the ultimate no-no in floral gifts. Even though I once had a boyfriend who appreciated my disdain of roses and sent me a much more useful gift of a bottle of champagne, I still found the whole comparison thing a bit tasteless.
Then there's the commercialization. At home at least, it seems as soon as the Christmas decorations go down, then the Valentines' ones go up. Everywhere. Today, in Ikea, the shop assistants were putting together romance-themed displays featuring heart-shaped objects and lots of pink and red. Barf. What's so romantic about build-it-yourself furniture from Sweden? Restaurants all over Shanghai are offering special dinners for two and the florists are also gearing themselves up. Actually, last year I did a little story on roses for Valentines' Day and found out that the price is hiked right up around that time. What I also found out was that some men send 999 red roses to their partners. Ludicrous.
It's also so tacky. I refer to my earlier statement about the roses. Worse though are anything heart-shaped and red soft toys that hold little pillows or balloons saying "I love you" or any other number of saccharine sayings. I still haven't fully forgiven my friend for proposing to his now-wife one Valentines' Day because it was so trite ... so kitsch.
Finally, I detest Valentines' Day because I think it's so forced. Who needs a special day to tell someone they love them? Surely, every day we show people our love through a variety of ways without having to send them a nasty foil heart-shaped balloon?
Love is in actions such as a boyfriend I had who was up every morning before me to make coffee and made my hot water bottle every evening. Or the one who waited outside in the cold for hours one night. He had come to comfort me over a family tragedy but I had fallen asleep and he could not get in. Succumbing to advertizing and commercialization and feeling compelled to produce a gift or a gesture on a particular day seems so unnatural.
Yeah, Valentines' Day is my least favourite day of the year. I buy my own flowers, baby.
