Valentines day
Valentine’s day unfolds in shades of red and pink—candlelit dinners, handwritten cards, and surprise bouquets at the door. At its best, it’s truly lovely. There’s something undeniably sweet about a day dedicated to love. It prompts us to pause, to say “I appreciate you,” and to plan something thoughtful instead of letting another hectic week slip by.
For couples, it can be magical. A cosy dinner at home. A playlist of “your songs.” A small gift that shows you’ve been paying attention. Even simply carving out intentional time together can feel romantic in a world that moves far too quickly.
But let’s be honest.
Valentine’s Day is also one of the most aggressively commercial holidays on the calendar.
Walk into any shop in February and it’s as if Cupid exploded. Giant teddy bears. Heart-shaped everything. Pre-written cards that somehow cost £10. And don’t even start on flowers. Roses that cost £10 in January suddenly skyrocket to £25 or more. The same bouquet. The same stems. Just wrapped in urgency and expectation.
Florists aren’t villains—supply and demand are real—but the markup is enough to make anyone side-eye a dozen roses.
And then there’s the pressure.
The unspoken competition. The Instagram posts of elaborate surprises. The reservations booked weeks ahead. The fear of “not doing enough.” Valentine’s Day can shift from a celebration of love into a performance of it. Instead of asking, What would feel meaningful? we end up wondering, Will this look impressive enough?
For those who are single, recently heartbroken, or in complicated situations, the day can feel even heavier. It’s hard to escape the constant reminders that you’re “supposed” to be celebrating romantically. The world can make it seem like love only counts if it comes in a couple-shaped box.
Which is why one of the best evolutions of Valentine’s Day might be Galentine’s Day.
A day for friends. For laughter. For celebrating the people who show up for you all year long—not just in February. Brunch with your best friends. Matching pyjamas and bad rom-coms. A group chat hyping each other up. There’s something powerful about reclaiming the day and saying, “Love isn’t limited to romance.”
Friendship love is steady. It’s the “text me when you get home” love. The “I’ll sit with you while you cry” love. And that deserves confetti too.
And then there’s the boldest option of all: ignore it entirely.
No roses. No prix-fixe menu. No heart-shaped anything.
Cook a normal dinner. Go to the gym. Read a book. Treat 14th February like it’s just another day. There’s a quiet kind of freedom in refusing to buy into the hype. Love doesn’t expire at midnight. It doesn’t require a calendar reminder. If anything, the healthiest relationships—romantic or otherwise—are built in the ordinary days.
Maybe that’s the real message.
Valentine’s Day can be beautiful when it’s intentional and pressure-free. It becomes exhausting when it’s expensive, performative, or forced. The magic isn’t in the price tag of the flowers (especially not the wildly overpriced ones). It’s in the sincerity.
So whether you’re planning a candlelit dinner, hosting a Galentine’s brunch, or proudly ignoring the whole thing—make it yours.
Love is too important to be reduced to a marketing campaign.
And definitely too important to be measured in the cost of roses. 🌹