Why Valentine’s Day is a waste of loan

Valentine’s Day dates back to a Roman fertility festival called Lupercalia and was affiliated with the 14th because it was believed to be the start of the bird’s mating season in the 1300s. And that’s just it, isn’t it?

It’s the one day in the year when women can justify throwing their feminist cloak off in favour of a free meal and a sudden cure for persistent headaches, and when men have officially built up enough karmic blowjob points to leave the house hoover alone for a night.

But does it retain deeper connotations to the act of love? Or to be loved? Absolutely not.

One billion Valentine’s Day cards are bought per year. That’s more than Mother’s Day. Are these statistics based on large numbers of orphans becoming romantically involved? Again, absolutely not.

It is because the skewed notion that one may express love on only one day of the year, as opposed to repeatedly and consistently expressing that love via minor, inexpensive gestures throughout the relationship, has become unjustifiably dominant. And apparently more dominant than telling your own Mother she’s doing alright.

valday Seemingly, meaningless comes in a huge variety

Actively expressing one’s feelings for a counterpart on one particular day in order to buoyant your lengthy advocacy for anal runs entirely counter to the real notion of love. Love is persistent, generous and unconditional. Or at least that’s what Sex in the City taught us.

If your relationship, yourself, or partner needs a designated, commercial holiday in order to write “I love you” on a presupposed piece of card, then something is drastically incorrect.

This is not to say that wonderful, thoughtful gestures aren’t quite edgy enough for the modern human. Nor is it to say that chocolates aren’t good, because Christ, even the mere thought of Green and Black’s almond selection is arousing, but it is to say that such gestures should not be reserved for one artificial, commercial waste of tree pulp.

Such gestures should be made all the time, and without getting charged 30% extra in every restaurant in town or spending an average of £79 per person (apparently).

Stop feeding the fat-cats

Most notable is the impact the official day has on our fellow beings. Men are under considerable pressure to shower their counterparts with financial manifestations of ‘feelings and stuff’, and women are jointly pressured to wipe out their calendar and treat their allergy to roses and spooning as mere inconveniences.

The day must always be filled with glorious memories of romantic conversation, sidelining any meaningful and potentially derisive subjects to another day when the real relationship is permitted to run.

Valentine’s Day imposes notions of superiority on those within relationships and forces the supposedly less desirable of our race to seek refuge in pre-planned  ‘girls-only nights in’. For those in adolescence, Valentine’s Day is a poignant reminder that their acne is too widespread across their facial features to enjoy recognition  by a fellow adolescent.

I take it all back. Somebody sneak this smasher through my front door

In short, the day perpetuates exclusivity and superiority. Both of which are unwanted connotations to any rational ideals of love.

In 2010, companies made an estimated $784.30 million out of our misguided efforts to express our feelings. This might be great news for George Osborne’s campaigns, but whether he sleeps at night is less important than the banana element to Banoffee Pie.

So it’s not the British’s strong point, and admittedly we’re only emotional during the World Cup, but aren’t we tired of handing over our hard-earned cash to faceless fat cats at the top of the Hallmark tree?

Can’t we make our loved ones feel loved any time of the year without Moonpig’s implied permission? I think so.