by Haley Bliss
Every February, we witness a curious anthropological phenomenon: Valentine’s Day, a commercial liturgy disguised as romantic expression. This annual performance of affection transforms love into a transactional spectacle, where emotional currency is exchanged through standardized tokens of desire—heart-shaped chocolates, mass-produced cards, and hastily purchased roses. It’s a holiday that somehow manages to be both universally recognized and utterly perplexing.
The origins of this ritual are paradoxically both mundane and bizarre. What began as a Christian martyrdom commemoration—honoring Saint Valentine, who may or may not have performed secret marriages for Roman soldiers—metamorphosed into a global marketplace of performative intimacy. One can only imagine the saint’s bewilderment at the sight of his legacy inspiring millions to purchase oversized teddy bears.
Contemporary Valentine’s Day is less about genuine connection and more about economic choreography. Greeting card companies, florists, and chocolate manufacturers have essentially weaponized human vulnerability, creating a social script where love is measured in dollars spent and Instagram-worthy gestures captured. It’s a fascinating ritual of manufactured sentiment: we’ve transformed a deeply personal emotion into a standardized cultural product, complete with prescribed gestures and acceptable expressions of affection. The irony is exquisite: in attempting to celebrate individual love, we’ve created a remarkably uniform experience.
But let’s not be too cynical. There’s something oddly charming about a holiday that forces us to pause and say, “Hey, I love you,” even if it’s under the duress of societal expectation. The problem, though, is that Valentine’s Day has become less about love and more about performance. It’s a day where we’re all actors in a grand romantic play, reciting lines we didn’t write and following a script that includes dinner reservations, overpriced flowers, and the obligatory Instagram post. (Because if you didn’t post it, did it even happen?)
So, here’s my proposal: let’s reclaim Valentine’s Day. Let’s strip away the commercialization and the pressure and make it about what it’s supposed to be—a celebration of love in all its forms. Romantic love, platonic love, self-love, love for your cat, love for your favorite barista who always gets your order right. Let’s make it a day where we connect, not compete. Where we give, not out of obligation, but out of genuine affection.
And if all else fails, there’s always chocolate. Because let’s face it: no matter how you feel about Valentine’s Day, chocolate is always a good idea.
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone. May your heart be full, your expectations low, and your candy stash plentiful.