Valentine’s is nonsense – but I’m so in love with it
IT SEEMS ridiculous to care but I can’t quite not. About Valentine’s Day, that is. Surely a woman in her 60s in a long-term relationship should have nothing to do with such sappy nonsense? Since when was love measured by the arrival of a bunch of flowers or box of chocolates? And anyway, wasn’t the whole point of Valentine’s that love could be proclaimed anonymously? A card propped up on the breakfast muesli from the man sitting opposite you doesn’t quite tick that box.
Sadly, long gone are the days when I would receive genuinely anonymous cards, and spend thrilling hours analysing the postmark and handwriting, hoping that it wasn’t the creep I had met a few weeks before but the gorgeous boy who had taken my number but oddly had not yet called.
When I worked on both Tatler and Vogue, Valentine’s Day could be a fraught occasion. The building had about six times as many women as men, so come February 14 the reception area was like Covent Garden flower market, only without the porters and bacon sandwiches. By midday the road outside was blocked with delivery vans. Brave suitors shyly dropped off their single rose before scurrying away.
This was all very well for the lucky recipients – but less delightful for those who had to sit out the day at a flowerfree desk. I remember one year, when my romantic life was going through a drought, arranging to do an interview outside London that day just so I could escape.
Of course I always knew I shouldn’t care. That my selfworth should not be affected by whether some goon had sent me a card, or my boyfriend had bothered to book a nice restaurant. But I would wager most women (and a fair proportion of men) secretly crave some recognition of today. And never more than this year.
A survey by a gift-card company announced that 6.1million people have ‘found love’ over the past year despite the limitations on meeting anyone. It sounds extraordinary, but congratulations to them all.
Most of us have found ourselves confined to those we already have in ever closer proximity. We have had to deal with each other’s highs and lows as fear, frustration and boredom washes over in unpredictable waves.
We have discovered new strengths and weaknesses in each other. We value more than ever a coffee brought in bed and are driven more mad by soggy towels left on the floor.
Yesterday, I saw a guy from the local building site pop into the post office to grab a ‘Wonderful Wife’ card, its bubblegumpink colouring standing out against his black workwear. Call me sentimental, but I thought it was sweet. A Valentine card has few words, but says a lot.