What kind of a love columnist would I be if I didn't acknowledge Valentine's Day? Yesterday, my group of friends seemed to fall into two camps: cynical or overly expectant.
In every group, one friend is disillusioned and embittered, making everyone else feel silly for celebrating love. Every year, this friend inevitably explains that Valentine's Day is nothing more than a holiday created by capitalistic greeting card companies; chocolate companies such as Hershey's, Lindt or Godiva reap millions in profits. I agree that it is slightly annoying to find candied hearts and plump Cupids on CVS shelves before the first week of the new year ends, but I do not think the holiday should be stereotyped as contrived.
On the other hand, there is the person who expects the works for Valentine's Day. Chocolate boxes, jewelry boxes and that 4-foot-tall teddy bear holding a giant heart are expected as evidence that the significant other cares. There needs to be a surprise delivery of a dozen long-stemmed red roses. A four-course prix fixe dinner for two at a fancy restaurant with a romantic bubble bath afterward are required.
Speaking of flower deliveries, I was sitting in my room yesterday when there was a knock at my door, and I opened it to see a large box of flowers placed on the doormat. I excitedly thought they were for me but soon realized they had been wrongly sent to someone named Sarah* with my apartment listed as the address. I walked around my entire apartment complex, looking at the last names on each mailbox to see if the girl lived in the same complex so I could rightfully deliver them. No Sarah anywhere. I called the flower company's customer service number, and the representative told me the company would work on getting a replacement bouquet delivered. This meant that the flowers on my doorstep were all mine! I was thrilled until I opened the box - gorgeous red tulips and purple irises! - and saw the note to Sarah: "Hey baby. I am so sorry for everything I said to upset you. Please forgive me. Love, Arnold*." (Poor Arnold is going to have even more explaining to do!) My guilt about the intercepted apology bouquet was overruled by my love for the new centerpiece on my kitchen table. My clever boyfriend tried to take advantage of the situation and tell me that he was Arnold and it was a joke, but I knew better than to believe him. He was definitely not off the flower-buying hook for Valentine's Day.
Despite my delivery mishap, I realized how flowers exacerbate the two types of people with strong feelings for or against Valentine's Day. Between angry cynic and the chocolate-flower whore, I think I fall into the second category. I can't help but swoon when it comes to jewelry and chocolate and flowers, whether because of my own inherent desires or because of the desires subconsciously forced upon me by Hallmark and movies like "Pretty Woman" and "Love Actually." I can't help it but I'd like to think I'm not completely vain. This past Valentine's Day, my boyfriend's family was in town for his orchestra concert and wanted to grab dinner with us before they left. I got to have the nice four-course dinner, just with his parents and brother there, too. And I wouldn't have had it any other way.
*Names have been changed; I stalked the real couple on Facebook. I know they ?exist and I am terrified they are going to read this and bang on my door demanding their flowers back.
Jordan's column runs biweekly Mondays. She can be reached at j.hart@cavalierdaily.com.
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