Why I Love Valentine’s Day

By James Hopkirk

Will someone please invent Miserable Git’s Day. I don’t mind fronting a tenner for the stationary. Maybe then they’ll give the rest of us some peace on Valentine’s Day.

Every year, as February approaches, couples have to put up with a steady stream of digs and jibes from friends, colleagues and vitriolic newspaper columns, insisting that we’re ‘smug’, ‘self-absorbed’ and above all ‘falling for a marketing scam’.

These cynics can usually be lumped into one of two categories.

Firstly we have the recently dumped. These are the same people who this time last year wouldn’t shut up about how wonderful their darling shnookums was, and how fabulous their Valentine’s weekend in Florence was going to be. But then, of course, it all went sour. And like reformed smokers these guys kick up a bigger fuss than anyone as they mask their crushing loneliness with sarcasm and superiority.

Boo-hoo, etc. Most of us have been dumped at one time or another, but it doesn’t mean a free pass to rain on everyone else’s parade.

Secondly we have the downright lazy. These people are in relationships, so claim immunity from allegations of bitterness. But sadly that doesn’t stop them from whining. Because they can’t even be bothered to pick up a bunch of wilting petrol station flowers on the way home from work, they huff and they puff and work themselves into a self-righteous tizzy, demanding to know why they have to be romantic ‘on cue’.

Of course that would be perfectly reasonable if they regularly treated their other half to candlelit dinners the rest of the year - but that’s simply not the case with this bunch of skivers.

Which is why I find the annual February 14 backlash rather hard to swallow. If Christmas is for families, Halloween for kids and Mothering Sunday for mums (see also: Father’s Day for dads), then why shouldn’t a mere 24 hours in every 8,760 (thank you calculator) be set aside for couples?

And don’t try and tell me that every day is couples’ day.

Remember, it’s not just for the new, hand-holding, snogging-in-public types. Who can begrudge a night off for the husband and wife who’ve been married for ten years, and with their busy jobs don’t often get a chance to see each other without screaming kids under their feet?

For some, Valentine’s will just be another romantic night out with the one they love (or lust after) – a regular occurrence. But for others it’s a reason to pay for a babysitter, an excuse to leave the office on time, a chance to spend an evening together undisturbed, perhaps for the first time in months.

And for the record, we’re not idiots either. We’re perfectly aware that florists, chocolatiers, greetings card manufacturers and the like are all cashing in - but that’s no different from any other special occasion. It doesn’t mean you have to slavishly follow their idea of what constitutes romance. Think of these more as guidelines for the unimaginative, a helping hand for the sort of blokes who think a romantic gesture is leaving the room to fart.

For those of us who actually enjoy the odd Mills & Boon moment, it’s a challenge. One Valentine’s, a friend of mine told his girlfriend he’d organised a surprise. He asked her to be at his house in smart evening wear for 7pm sharp. She arrived looking stunning in a little black dress to find him waiting outside with a cab in full black tie.

They were then dropped off not at the Ritz, but at a burger stall by Battersea Bridge. He produced two deck chairs, some blankets and a good bottle of wine from the boot, and they sat huddled on the bridge enjoying the London night skyline with cheeseburgers, chips and Chateauneuf du Pape.

At the other end of the price scale, I remember when my first news editor was whisked off to New York by her boyfriend. He’d booked her time off work through her boss in secret, and then proposed on top of the Empire State Building. Not bad – although admittedly not something you could repeat every year.

But wherever in the world you celebrate it, and whether it costs an arm and a leg or just a couple of toes, Valentine’s usually involves eating – at least for part of the evening. Which is why I can’t understand the incessant whining of the downright lazy. Surely if the idea of having to spend a couple of hours drinking wine, eating good food and chatting to your partner fills you with such dread, then you’re with the wrong person.

As for the recently dumped I have some sympathy – but I do wish they’d shut up.

So who’s for Miserable Git’s Day? You could pop down the pub, moan at the barman, sink a few pints, moan some more, grab a kebab then slope off to bed, alone. Sounds wonderful. I think I’ll be out to dinner that night.

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