One of the most irritating pieces of modern commercialism since shampoo adverts were invented, and one also lapped up stupidly by millions of women. It is not the women however that I fear for on this special day, it is their partners.
Valentine’s Day is a special day for a wide range of commerce sectors and girls. In a fascinatingly audacious abuse of humanity, the concept of love is pulled in all direction for the sake of a quick buck. Unfortunately the poor scapegoat is the man. He must buy the dinner, pay for the theatre or cinema, send the flowers etc. etc. This celebration may be delivered into the minds of society as a mutual event where loved ones express love, but it clearly isn’t. Valentine’s Day represents nothing more than living up to expectations, a tick box of conformity, a task that must be fulfilled. While gifts may very well be shared, this occasion does nothing for the gentlemen involved, just as they display no awe at the employment of ‘Himinol B’ or ‘Hyper Stretchy Invigoration Nodes’. Why does this event do nothing for the man but cause discomfort and pain? Because it’s bo
ks that’s why.
As far as I am within unknown territory to be suggesting the male genders’ feelings and political standpoint on love and relationships, I shall avoid the issue of men showing their love as such. Each specimen has his own behaviour patterns and to generalize would be harshly unfair. Similarly, the remembrance of special events and celebration of them is a skill which varies from bloke to bloke so again for fairness this shall be passed upon. The big issue is that partners are expected to show their love for this occasion.
I despise the coming of Mother’s Days and Father’s Days, probably partly because I’m never on the receiving end, and often forget to meet the post, but mainly because I resent being told when to tell my mother I love her. I fully appreciate the service my parents did to me during my formative years and beyond, I marvel at the fact they are still even together after all these years, but I dislike intensely being scheduled an appreciation.
While those are varied fabrications of ‘days’ occasionally supported by random religious holidays, Valentines is simply sickening. A saint no less, saint indeed! There are three chaps they reckon might be the one in question, and several versions of the days’ origin. It is shrouded in mystery so they say, and they say that because it’s a load of crap. Whether he was sending a card to a jailed love, or secretly wedding young lovers against the law, he was probably about as influential in the creation of V-Day’s ethos, as Mr Kipling was in baking cakes.
Basically it’s a nice image to attach to a sales idea, but what an idea. A spectacular way of emptying men’s pockets, the pockets of those men that want to empty their scrotal sacks at least. As insulting to our intelligence as it is, I fail to understand why it continues to be lapped up by so many people. Forgetful or non-conforming partners are viciously rebuked for their failures on this day, the thought being that they don’t care. I have removed myself from a relationship in the past due to such an attack, my estimation of said girlfriend’s intellect suddenly dropping.
Surely it is even less significant to show your love on Valentine’s Day than any other, because you are told to repeatedly. The fact that the day is so built up and established as a must-do, that the act itself loses all credibility must surely feature in some minds.
No unfortunately not, like love struck lemmings we throw our pennies into displays of affection not for our partners or loved ones, but for capitalism and commerce. But hey if it keeps everyone happy (which I doubt, it probably causes more depression and angst than pleasure) and keeps the economy ticking over than who am I to argue.
I shall argue however, with any future girlfriends who expect me to jump up and do what the card shops tell me. With that I shall also continue to display affection to those I love when I ing feel like it thank you very much, and I’ll do it because I want to, and it will mean something.
Malcolm Eggs