Do we really need to celebrate Valentine’s Day?

Of all the Hallmark Holidays, St Valentine’s Day must be the most despicable. What started out as a festival to celebrate love has become, like every other special day, a full on competitive consumer-fest.

It’s estimated that we Brits spend more than £500m a year on Valentine’s Day and its related tat. Since 26 December, the shops have been full of glittery heart-shaped cards, sickly heart-shaped chocolates and thousands of heart-shaped pink plastic nick-nacks designed to show your love for that one special person and your general disregard for the environment.

Everybody knows it’s rubbish, and yet if you don’t receive at least a single rose, air-freighted halfway round the world and wrapped in non-biodegradable cellophane – well, what does that say about your relationship?

On 14 February, the potential for disappointment and humiliation is off the charts for all but the smuggest of smug marrieds.

Would St Valentine approve? Who was he anyway? The true story of the patron saint of lovers has a number of variations, but the most popular is that he was a Christian priest living in Rome in the 3rd century AD.

The emperor at the time, Claudius II, also known as Claudius the Cruel, banned marriage on the grounds that married men made bad soldiers. He even went so far as cancelling his subjects’ previously agreed engagements. You can imagine how that went down with thousands of Roman bridezillas, who’d already put a deposit on the buffet of stuffed swan.

Disagreeing with Claudius’s theory that love interferes with war, Valentine arranged secret marriages for Roman military men and their sweethearts. When Claudius found out, Valentine was sentenced to death for his efforts.

While awaiting execution, he fell for his jailer’s daughter and on 14 February, the day of his death, he sent her a love letter, signing it “from your Valentine”. It was the first Valentine’s card.

So far, so tragic. However, long before St Valentine, February was a time for celebrating love in the pagan world. During the ancient spring festival of Lupercalia, which took place on 15 February, single Roman boys were allocated temporary girlfriends by drawing a single girl’s name from a box.

The lottery-chosen sweethearts would stay together for the duration of the festival, which was celebrated with parties and presents. The Christian church coopted Lupercalia, changed the date and tagged it to St Valentine.

Over the years, the drawing of lots was – thank goodness – replaced by the giving of anonymous gifts, particularly gloves to hide embarrassingly engagement ring-free hands. Meanwhile, the lore attached to the date continued to grow. Traditions included: “The first man a single woman sees on St Valentine’s Day will be her husband.” Back in the day that put the milkman in a terrible position.

Or, how about: “The first bird you see on Valentine’s Day represents your future fiance.” A robin represented a sailor. A sparrow represented a poor chap with whom you would be very happy. A goldfinch represented a millionaire.

I could find no data for what sort of person you’ll end up marrying if the first bird you see on 14 February is an urban pigeon pulling chicken bones from a KFC box.

However, somehow along the way Valentine’s Day changed so that it was no longer just for the single. Now the already coupled-up have muscled in on the act. The tradition of anonymous cards has been hijacked by cards that say ‘Happy Valentine’s Day to My Boyfriend” or ‘Be My Valentine, Dear Wife”. Nothing anonymous about that. Now the day is all about showing off by people who are already winning at love.

Three years ago, American Express ran a survey that discovered some 6 million American couples intended to get ostentatiously engaged on Valentine’s Day. In the UK around 1 million respondents also said they would use the day to pop the question in a similarly gob-smacking display of unoriginality.

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If you’re thinking of booking that table for two and hiding a ring in the chocolate mousse this 14 February, don’t imagine the staff will be pleased for you. A restaurateur friend, who naturally wishes to remain anonymous, explained why he hates Valentine’s Day more than any other day of the year – even more than New Year’s Eve. “The restaurant is booked out but it’s all tables of two, which is the worst possible scenario. Larger tables require much less attention and fewer wait staff. Plus, everybody looks so miserable. There’s so much pressure to have a good time.”

My friend cheers himself up by creating a set menu comprising everything he wants to get rid of from his freezers and putting his prices up by 25 per cent. “Serves them right,” he says.

The new incarnation of Valentine’s Day as a celebration for the already happily coupled is what makes it especially painful for the singletons to whom simple anonymous expressions of admiration were supposed to give a bit of a fillip.

Nordic dating coach Miia Koponen (www.miiakoponen.com) is definitely not a big fan of the commercialised version of Valentine’s Day we celebrate in the United Kingdom, believing that it emphasises the superficial and overlooks the real meaning of what it is to love someone.

The pressure to find a partner can become overwhelming when the shops are full of heart-shaped stuff. Koponen thinks that a better way to celebrate is by connecting with yourself and your friends. In fact, in her home country of Finland, 14 February is a day dedicated to friendships rather than romance.

Koponen suggests: “Instead of feeling miserable about being single on St Valentine’s, make it all about appreciating yourself and people in your life. Call a friend or a family member and tell them how much they mean to you. Cook a meal for a friend or two – make it an evening where you remind yourselves about everything you’re grateful for in your life. Gratitude exercises can be very powerful and are guaranteed to make you feel good. Maybe even call that special friend, with whom you have a mutual agreement about consensual fun.”

Whatever you do, Koponen urges the unhappily single to “be kind to yourself and let go of what ‘should be’. Be excited about what you have right now.”

Easier said than done, I know. But I also know that my best ever Valentine’s Day was one that I spent with three friends in our favourite Indian restaurant. We brought home all the heart-shaped balloons.

Throughout their long and happy marriage, my dad never bought my mum a Valentine’s Day card on the grounds that the day was for secret admirers and it was no secret that Dad loved Mum more than anything. He didn’t need to say it with a dozen supermarket flowers that have no scent or a piece of folded cardboard covered in glitter.

I used to think Dad was unromantic but now I know that real love isn’t an annual event. It’s 365 early morning cups of tea a year. It’s checking the pressure in their tyres before they set off on a journey. It’s sitting with them in the doctor’s waiting room. It’s every day and ordinary.

Dad was right. Real love leaves St Valentine’s Day to the singletons.

Christine Manby has written numerous novels including ‘The Worst Case Scenario Cookery Club’