Obligation Day (14/02/2012)

Today is, of course, that very special of days on which we celebrate the Tine of Valen¹. It is a day, indeed, that proposes the celebration of romantic love, and I for one think that’s just super. Romantic love is pretty swell and I’d go as far to say that I’m a proponent of it. So allow me to join the jolly fray and say, “Here’s to romantic love! It’s all right!”
     Now, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to explain why Valentine’s is insipid, insincere and, worst of all, irrelevant.
     Let’s begin by clearing some existing arguments.
     'Valentine’s is about corporations and money.’ This I cannot disagree with, but it is not the reason Valentine’s irks me. Corporations monetise on every holiday they can – always have – always will. It isn’t unreasonable for companies to desire to profit on the boosted sales of cards and presents. It is business after all. That’s not a problem. But there is a problem here. Consider this: if no one bought into holidays at all – in fact, if no one bought into just Christmas – our economies would most likely collapse. The financial well-being of our nations depends on the success of holiday expenditure. We need holidays. And that sad fact hints at the problem I wish to make clear.
     Next: ‘Valentine’s only exists to make single people feel bad.’ Again, there is some truth in this, or rather the truth that, even if it is not the reason of its being, Valentine’s certainly does a very good job of it. Those without romantic partners are more often than not made to feel isolated, incomplete and generally unhappy. Even the most staunchly single cannot entirely avoid an insipid pang of self-doubt or self-pity when Valen’s Tine rolls around. Now, perhaps I am biased, considering that m’colleagues have labelled me the living embodiment of the internet meme, Forever Alone; and yet, however happily my future self may be significantly othered, however much I may long to celebrate my love by yawping it over the rooftops of the world, Valentine’s has always bugged me and I predict always will. I don’t think Valentine’s purpose is to make single people feel bad. Nor do I think the celebration of romantic love should be anathema to those who do not currently experience it. Yet, on Valentine’s Day more than any other day, the unashamed, narrow, worth-destroying mentality that pervades our culture rears its ugly, ugly head highest and strikes.
     Here’s the problem. As it stands, the only love that counts worth a damn it seems is romantic love, and you don’t just want it – you need it. If you don’t have romantic love, you are incomplete. You are not a whole you. Somehow, we have convinced ourselves that to be single is to be inherently unhappy, unfulfilled, and less than good enough. Even the words we use play to this fallacy. ‘Single’ – on one’s own. We don’t use the word for people who don’t have any friends, or family members, or work colleagues. We only use it for someone who doesn’t have romantic love: ‘have’ being a word of ownership, by the way. Love is a commodity – it is a product – the product - and if you don’t have it, you’re not one of the cool kids. The message is that being yourself, one singular being, is something to be embarrassed about, ashamed of, and something you must fix.
     The advert is all around us. Literally, almost every advert on television, on the radio, on billboards, in newspapers and magazines, is pushing this idea. Buy our product and you will get love – or sex, which is often synonymous with romantic love, a problem I will tackle another time – and by extension, happiness. It is inescapable.
     Has someone ever asked you and a friend if you are “together”? And if you’re not in a romantic relationship, you’ll most likely answer something akin to “Oh no. No. We’re just friends.”
     Just friends.
     Oh, how we disown and disvalue our friends with that phrase! How we discredit our love for them and their value to us! Just friends. As if friendship could never possibly be as rich and varied and fulfilling as romantic love. As if it is always less. Not only less, but worthless. Because you can’t even use the word ‘together’, no matter how close and how loving you may be. You can be physically adjacent, but you can never be ‘together’.
     The result of this awfully limited way of thinking, this obsession with love, is a culture that imagines itself without complexity. What matters is not the richness and quality of one’s relationships, but whether or not you’re in one, and only if it is romantic. It is an obligation - a compulsion. And on February 14th, every year, we have a day where if you aren’t celebrating romantic love with the giving of gifts no one wants or the sharing of words you would never yourself use, you can just go on feeling sorry for yourself. But how sincere, I ask, can loving gestures really be, when one feels obliged to perform them? How meaningful can love be when it is so narrowly prescribed? Some would argue that it is important to remind yourself to appreciate the people you love. To this I quote the words of John Green: “If you need to be reminded to like your romantic partner, you’re doing it wrong.”
     Valentine’s, beyond all its insipid, worth-crushing mindlessness, is a needless holiday. Celebrating romantic love is fine, but romantic love is, at the very least, over-celebrated. If ever I manage to form a romantic friendship with someone (heaven help their poor soul!), we will have Halloween on Valentine’s and Valentine’s on April Fools. (Incidentally, these are all holidays I enjoy and rue in equal aspect.) And on said Fool's Day, the insincerity of our gestures can be appreciated appropriately as a kind of bad joke.
     Simply I ask that we take a moment to remember the less-loved love in our lives, whatever form it may take. Show appreciation to those with whom you wouldn’t normally be so open about your affections. And instead of celebrating love for love’s sake, consider acting upon your affections in meaningful ways – ways which cannot be conveniently transacted – ways which don’t rely on it being a certain day of the year to make manifest - ways which communicate that you, singular person, love as an autonomous entity, happy to create and be part of a plural us.
     To my friends, close and far; m’colleagues; my classmates; my housemates; my family (to whom I owe apology for not making more frequent contact); and to all the strangers who have shown fleeting kindness, to whom I hope I have shown something of the same; I love you all, one way or another. And that, I think, is pretty swell.
     “Here’s to love. It’s all right!”

¹ Hank Green tells the tale of Valen's Tine. (Starts at 0:35)