Monthly Archives: February 2013

In Defence of Valentine’s Day.

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‘Tis a bit late, but better late than ever.

Ok, so many people I know are all very “bah humbug” when it comes to V-Day. (Was gonna put VD there, but that has other considerably less romantic connotations). Yet people spend squillions. Others bemoan the commercialisation of love.

I asked my PhD supervisor, a 64 year old man, if he had gotten his wife anything nice for the occasion. He replied “We don’t do Valentine’s day. We have been married 37 years”. I replied, without missing a breath “Joe, it’s like exercise. The older you get, the more important it becomes.”

A woman I heard of commented that she was not going to remind her partner that it was V-Day, but would yell at him if he forgot.

Some women complained about the presents they got from their partner. My nurse colleague got a copy of Grey’s Anatomy¬† (the reference book, not the drama series) from her boyfriend, and was very annoyed about the lack of romanticism. I offered to pop quiz her in a week.

Lots of people I know refuse to celebrate it with their partners.

I am not immune to the annoyance. For example, Valentine’s Day cards make me want to vomit. Never has the colour red been so blatantly abused.

The fella and I agreed not to exchange presents. A few days later, a week or so before the day, he had bought me a card and a terrarium.

(I had been eyeing one off for a while at the florist across the road from his place. I am very partial to a terrarium. We made one in grade 2, out of empty coke bottles).

I digress.

I bought him a candle he wanted. It was not V-Day, so I emphasised that it was not a V-Day present.

On the actual day, we returned to our “first date” restaurant. Had a lovely dinner, lots of wine, a cocktail. We pashed like teenagers. We held hands over the table and told each other about our days. I wrote him a poem and put it in a nice, tasteful blank card. No red. No glitter. No puppy dog saying “I ruv you”. I might even publish that poem on the blog.

Being a purveyor of trivia, I googled the meaning of V-Day. Something about some Roman empire dude who performed secret marriage ceremonies for army soldiers. Apparently the soldiers were not to get married but he martyred himself for the cause.

I don’t think many people know that. We just know about the nauseating cards, roses, teddy bears and the abuse of the colour red.

Being in a shiny, new(ish) relationship, with the hindsight of some epic fails, it was due that I thought about what V-Day might mean to me. Clandestine marriages don’t mean a lot anymore.

And here it is.

  • We can become so distracted by our lives, work, the daily grind. I feel so lucky to be in a good relationship, and I don’t want to take it for granted. Anything that reminds me can only be considered a good thing.
  • With V-Day presents being banned, we have to think of creative ways to make each other smile. This is a good thing too.
  • It gives the florists good business. Florists are usually small, family businesses. Anything that helps them, I am good with.
  • A good excuse to consume Champagne. I am good with this too.

When I was single, I learned the concept of romancing yourself (minds out of the gutter). It has to do with being very kind to yourself. Taking yourself out on a date. A warm bath. A delectable glass of wine, for the hell of it. Perhaps we should perpetuate this a bit more! We all could benefit from it.

So that’s my thoughts on it, my $0.02. Does anyone else have any thoughts?