In a bout of procrastination a couple of weeks ago, my roommate and I decided to binge-watch several seasons of How I Met Your Mother. As a feminist, that show can be difficult to watch at times. But as a Valentine’s Day enthusiast, the Valentine’s Day episode in season six — “Desperation Day” — is borderline blasphemous.
In this episode, Robin and two of her female co-workers wear purple as a sign of solidarity in their protest against V-Day, the argument being that the holiday is purely corporate and targets insecure single women.
This stance on Valentine’s Day is by no means uncommon, but depressing in every possible way. It takes away from the joy of this holiday, because underneath the hyper-commercial, candy-coated veneer of Valentine’s Day there is beauty.
Feb. 14 is a celebration of love, and while we tend to focus on love in the context of romance between monogamous couples, fêting love doesn’t have to be that exclusive.
What about platonic and familial love? Or most important of all, self-love? For singletons this holiday is an opportunity, an official excuse, really, to indulge in sensuality and celebrate camaraderie.
I have never been in a relationship on Valentine’s Day, but the last time I wallowed over my spinsterdom on Feb. 14 was in the ninth grade. Then again, I wallowed over everything.
I look back fondly on making cards for my friends and classmates growing up, and being handed Valentine-themed Pillsbury cookies.
Yes, that was in elementary school, a much simpler, asexual time. But the same basic principles of Valentine’s Day still apply— make someone feel special whether it’s yourself or loved ones.
A friend of mine told me a beautiful story of how her mother, even to this day, decorates their kitchen table with heart-shaped tinsel, and prepares little bags of candy and homemade cards for the family. And as a family, they have Valentine’s Day dinner.
Last year, my mom sent me a bouquet of daisies. My sister seems to think this makes me a needy sitcom character but I say let V-Day haters hate, because that gesture made me feel special. And every time I walked by that bouquet I appreciated the care that went into it, and the love it represented.
That same Valentine’s Day my roommates and I hosted a wine night, which was quickly commandeered by vodka, and our friend Stu brought us tulips. Another friend gave us individualized poems about what he liked in our personalities. They rhymed.
My motto for this Valentine’s Day is “Treat. Yo. Self.”
On Feb. 14 my roommate and I will sip champagne like Biggie in our makeshift Jacuzzi (it’s a very hot bath in bathing suits), then head out with our single friends to a burlesque show. I’m going to buy myself flowers, and make my amigas a batch of homemade body scrub so they too can indulge in self-nurture.
None of this will be an act of protest against Valentine’s Day or monogamous romance. I will not be wearing purple like Robin in How I Met Your Mother. I will be celebrating love. Love as I see it.
So this Valentine’s Day I encourage my fellow singletons to embrace the holiday in their own way. Relax with a bubble bath, make a gourmet dinner with your roommates. Shut yourself (perhaps with a partner) in a room with various vices and devices.
An entire holiday dedicated to love, in all its forms, shouldn’t be turned into a day of clichéd self-loathing or apathy. After all, love is what makes the world go ‘round and life worth living. So let’s have fun with it.
— Layne Davis,
second-year journalism and political science
