Don't say it with flowers
Every year, I whine about Valentine’s Day and deliver the same speech about how pointless it really is. I try to convince my sappy, lovesick friends that there wouldn’t even be a reason for Valentine’s Day if we made every day a celebration of love. Nobody listens to me. The world will end if my girlfriends don’t get their red roses on the 14th. Boyfriends beware. End of story.
For as long as romantic comedies are being made and love songs are being written, St. Valentine’s grip will remain firm. I might not be a fan, but I’m not the Scrooge of V-Day. I get why so many people make such a big deal about this so-called holiday. If this is the only time you feel comfortable enough to express your feelings for someone special, then it’s an important day. If it’s the only time of year that you muster the courage to make an embarrassingly public (and very cute) declaration of love for someone you care about, then it’s an important day. In the words of Sheryl Crow, “if it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.” Valentine’s Day might be a rather insensitive reminder that you’re single (if you’re single and would really rather not be — go listen to some Beyoncé), but for many, it’s a source of great happiness.
I believe in love. I could never argue with that.
What I really don’t get, though, is the giving of flowers. I might have come to admit that Valentine’s Day isn’t useless, but flowers are really useless. A friend once tried to explain that the pointlessness of flowers was what gave them their value. “They’re useless, but you give them anyway,” she said. “You don’t have to do it, but you do.” What? Three years later, I’m still as confused by that statement as ever.
Flowers are expensive. They’re pretty, but all you can do is put them in a vase and look at them until they die. It seems like such a waste, especially if they would have continued to blossom had they been left as they were; had nature been allowed to take its course. Why bother with them if they won’t even last a week?
Websites for various florists list the meanings behind different flowers and different flower colors — remnants of a time when it was inappropriate to speak of things like love and lust. Flowers were the only way you could tell someone how you felt about them. They were a subtle but not so secret way of sending a message. This is the new millennium, the Internet age; is it that hard to come up with a new, creative way of saying “I love you”? Why say it with flowers when the options are limitless?
If flowers are meant to be symbolic of your feelings for the person you love, well, that doesn’t seem like particularly promising symbolism to me. You pluck flowers when they are at their most beautiful and then you toss them out when they start to wilt. What are you really trying to tell me? I honestly hope that this is not how relationships are supposed to play out.
I never get flowers on V-Day. I don’t get them on my birthday, either, or for anniversaries and other special occasions. I am almost always given books, and I like that. It may seem unromantic, but think about it: reading a good book is like stepping into a different world. You learn from the characters’ experiences as if you had lived their lives. A good book expands your knowledge. A good book can change your life.
If you’re the reading type, you’ll read a book many times over the years. A book that is given becomes a lasting reminder of the person who gave it to you. You’ll discover something new about it every time you read it — interesting little details you might have missed that give the story more depth, or clever turns of phrase that you didn’t notice the first time around. Your interpretation or understanding of a book becomes richer as your new life experiences lend to your wisdom. A good book is a mystery at the first reading, but it becomes something you know better each time you read it, until it seems almost like an old friend.
If we’re talking symbolism, that’s the kind of relationship worth having. That’s the kind of love I want. The kind that makes my life more rich. The kind that endures; the kind that grows with every day.
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Send Valentines to vivat.regina@yahoo.com.
