“All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.”
Charles Schultz
Valentine’s Day: that glitter-coated emotional booby trap disguised as romance.
Some people plan for it weeks in advance—candles, flowers, a reservation that required a secret handshake and a blood oath. Others approach it with the same enthusiasm they reserve for jury duty.
But here’s the truth no one wants to admit: if it matters to your partner, it should matter to you. That’s the whole game. It’s not about your deep convictions regarding Hallmark or your performative disdain for capitalism. It’s about the fact that someone you love lights up when they see red roses—and you, genius that you are, have the power to make that happen.
So buy the roses. Or the chocolate. Or the dumb card that plays “Endless Love” when you open it. You’re not selling out—you’re buying in.
And yes, maybe it’s ridiculous. Maybe it’s overpriced and overwrought and you’ll spend the night eating overpriced pasta under dim lighting while a guy with a guitar sings “Wonderwall.” But you’ll also have a happy partner. And that, my friend, is called winning the Super Bowl of emotional intelligence.
You don’t need to rent a horse-drawn carriage or spell their name in rose petals. Just do something—anything—that says, “I see you. I know this matters to you. And even though I don’t fully understand why, I’m in.”
Because love isn’t logical. It’s occasionally tacky, often inconvenient, and—when you get it right—pretty wonderful.
So go on. Be the person who celebrates the day, rolls your eyes about it later, and still gets credit for trying. You’ll have 364 other days to be cynical.
