I’m all for romance, just not on February
14.
This Saturday I had plans for a day out
with friends – a lovely long walk in the country followed by an early dinner
and the odd glass (bottle) of wine. Flu
seems to be conspiring against me, but my friends have offered to come here if
I can’t make it, so we may have a shorter walk and less wine.
It also happens to be February 14. The friends I am spending the day with are not
romantically involved – neither with each other nor with anyone else. The timing of our day out is not connected
to Valentine’s Day, other than maybe possibly the reason we are all free on
that day is because any other friends in relationships feel obliged to
celebrate the day in a commercial orgy of overly-sentimental cards, vastly
over-priced flowers and an exchange of gifts which are more geared towards the
tastes of a 14 year old who has been watching too many teen romances.
I am single. Obviously that is hard to believe of someone
with my charm, looks, intelligence and sweet nature, but even if I weren’t, I
wouldn’t be celebrating Valentine’s Day.
I don’t understand it and I never have.
It was ironic that by the time I had trained my then husband not to send
me tacky cards and on no account to send me red roses – yellow roses are far
prettier and don’t remind me of funerals, the barman who oversees all couplings
which start with a few too many bottles of wine had already called time on our
ailing marriage. Since that time I have
occasionally been in relationships over Valentine’s day and the partner of the
moment has ‘surprised me’ by booking dinner, sending cards and sometimes
flowers and I, in turn, have surprised them by doing absolutely nothing –
although I did turn up and eat the dinner, it would have seemed rude not to.
Such manners aside, going out to dinner on
Valentine’s day is an act of pure misery.
If ever you want to know just how many unhappy couples there are, just
go into any restaurant on February 14.
Tables will be squashed so closely together the restaurant manager would
have been taking lessons for weeks from rush-hour commuters. The menu will be limited and frequently
written in very bad French. This is partly
to seem more romantic, but mostly to hide how little you are getting for their
vastly inflated prices. Once you have
got over that, if you are not at the gazing lovingly into each others eyes
stage of the relationship (weeks 2 – 6) then you can’t help but notice how many
couples are sitting in a frosty silence.
Even for happy couples, of which I admit
there are many, Valentine’s day dining out is uncomfortable. Seating is too cramped, the lack of care and
quality in preparation of the food and the service is rarely reflected in the hefty
premium added to the bill. You are being
forced to have a ‘romantic moment’ which is actually romantic only in the
definition of the word as ‘fanciful; impractical and unrealistic’. Romance takes many forms, which is why a
commercialised approach to it falls so far short of reality. Different acts are romantic to different
people at different times and in different situations. It seems contradictory to celebrate something
as personal as true love in such a sickly-sweet, overly-commercial, public,
staged environment. If you have young children, it gets even worse, you are paying someone to relax in your house and have a pleasant evening with your children whilst you put yourself through this torture.
There are times when I do find being single
difficult and lonely, particularly at Christmas, sometimes at New Year, and
sometimes at the end of a bad day. But I
never feel I miss out on February 14.
Most of the happy couples I know celebrate it away from the crowds. Any romantic moments in my life have never
been on that day. I always feel that it
is the unhappy couples who put themselves through the public ritual. Don’t do it, take the day back, do what you
both enjoy – even if what you both enjoy is a kebab and watching rubbish on the
telly, you’ll have a far better night.
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