Some people I know – both in real life and on social media – are terribly excited about Valentine’s Day. Me, not so much.
In fact, I took to Facebook a few days ago to alert my friends that February 14 was imminent, and that, in my opinion, the whole Valentine’s Day thing is the cynical invention of people who want us to spend our hard-eared money on chocolate, flowers and jewellery.
I ended the missive with: “True love doesn't need just one day of the year to manifest itself, and those of us who are not in a relationship don’t need to be reminded of it.”
OK, so there’s the rub – I am currently single, so perhaps my view is tainted by the fact that I have nobody to shower with gifts of roses and Ferrero Rocher, even if I were inclined to do so.
But just because I’m a divorced man of a certain age doesn’t mean I don’t believe in love and romance. I just object to its commodification.
I stick by the assertion that Valentine’s Day has been hijacked by commercial interests. It’s been a “thing” in the West for decades and, like so many imported concepts, it’s getting bigger and bigger in the UAE each year.
Apparently it’s the biggest day of the year for most florists. And I know that I can’t get to the grocery shelves of my neighbourhood supermarket without dodging heart-shaped balloons and teddy bears adorned in pink silk.
Brochures and online advertisements exhort me to buy, buy, buy something nice and expensive for that nonexistent special person in my life. The more I spend, the more they will feel loved. Apparently.
Some of my friends who are in relationships admit – in hushed tones, lest their partners overhear them – that they could really do without the whole nonsense, but they dare not.
This commercial event isn’t even opt-in any more. It’s compulsory – to the point where the internet is alive with tales of “fails”, about the consequences people have faced for omitting to do the right thing on Valentine’s days of yore.
Newspaper articles warn us: “if you don't know your partner’s size, don't buy clothes”, “don’t treat your love to a gym membership” and – quite sensibly – “never get a tattoo of your loved one’s name or face”.
As I said on Facebook, I really don’t see how buying into a fabricated celebration – one that names itself after a Christian saint but uses the pagan god, Cupid, as its symbol – can be used as a measurement of your love for another person.
Would not a surprise gift on a day chosen at random hold more value than a bunch of flowers on a day when it’s expected of you to do something romantic?
And I can guarantee you that the service, quality of food and value for money at your favourite restaurant will be better on any night of the year other than February 14.
I could go on. And I would have, except that I got distracted mid-rant by one of the responses to my Facebook post.
A friend told me how her father, the master of a merchant ship, spent a lot of time away from home when she was a child. Every Valentine’s Day, she would receive an anonymous card from a different and fascinating part of the world.
She didn’t work out who her secret admirer was until she was 11, but she continued to treasure those cards as a mark of her father's irreplaceable love. Since his death, they have come to have an even deeper meaning.
Even a cynic like me couldn’t help shed a tear at a story like that.
So, yes, while I still think that we should love those who are precious to us every day of the year and that this one day has become too commercialised, I am willing to admit that Valentine’s Day has its place.
On the positive side, unlike a birthday or an anniversary, it’s impossible to forget the date – because there are hundreds of retailers out there ever so keen to remind you. And, after all, who am I to deprive some poor florist of earning a few extra dirhams by making others happy?
bdebritz@thenational.ae
On Twitter: @debritz