The 14th of February, or Valentine's Day as it's known in these parts, rolls around with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer in a china shop. Here we are, again, in the midst of what I can only describe as a commercial carnival masquerading as romance.
Ah, love, they say, is in the air, but if you ask me, it smells more like the cheap scent of last-minute panic purchases from the corner shop. The supermarket shelves, once stocked with the dignity of ordinary goods, now buckle under the weight of heart-shaped chocolates, roses in their dying throes, and those dreadful teddy bears, their eyes wide with the horror of their own existence.
It's the day when every card shop turns into a den of saccharine sentimentality, where verses are so saccharine they could give you diabetes just by reading them. "Roses are red, violets are blue," indeed. It's as if the art of expressing affection has been reduced to a nursery rhyme, a rhyme so basic that even the most linguistically challenged could recite it.
The pressure to conform, to perform the act of love, is palpable. Couples, young and old, are herded into restaurants where they pay through the nose for the privilege of dining under the scrutinise gaze of other couples, all wondering if they're doing love correctly. Singles, meanwhile, are reminded of their solitude not by the stars but by the relentless barrage of marketing emails, all screaming, "You're alone, but hey, here's a deal on chocolate!"
What has become of us, I ask? This day, meant to celebrate love, has morphed into an exercise in consumerism, where the measure of affection is not in kind words or gentle deeds but in the thickness of one's wallet. The genuine sentiment is drowned out by the cacophony of cash registers, each ring a reminder of how love has been commodified.
I remember when love was not a spectacle but a quiet understanding, a look, a touch, a shared silence that spoke volumes. Now, it's all about the spectacle, the show, the public declaration, as if love could not exist unless broadcasted on social media or sealed with an overpriced gift.
So, here's to you, Valentine's Day, a day that has lost its way in the maze of modern marketing, where love is less a feeling and more a transaction. But perhaps, in the quiet aftermath, when the gaudy decorations are taken down, and the last of the heart-shaped candies are eaten, we might remember what this day was supposed to signify: a simple, sincere expression of affection, unadorned by the trappings of commerce.
Until next year, when we'll all be fooled again by the promise of love wrapped in the glitter of capitalism.