Romance: Real or fiction?
There has been a growing persistent cynicism around Valentine’s Day. Not a few greetings in our social circle have been couched in apologies for falling in with the “consumerist” holiday. Yes, it’s not a true holiday, in the sense that we still have work (and I held our first day in graduate class right smack at 7 p.m., the prime dating time). It is also not a religious holiday, despite its saintly origin. It is indeed a significant opportunity for businesses and establishments to capitalize on, as lovers are keen to provide romantic offerings through gifts, dining, and trips. In industries that are barely recovering from the pandemic, an event like Valentine’s Day is a welcome boost. Is there a way to celebrate Valentine’s Day sincerely and wholesomely without feeling too pressured to spend?
If one is in a relationship, there is definitely pressure to make an event out of that day. How many fights and disappointments have happened because one’s expectations weren’t met by the other? For better or worse, Valentine’s Day is impossible to ignore the moment you step outside. Billboards, posters, plastered promos, rows and rows of flowers, chocolates, and stuffed toys surround commercial streets. Even when one chooses to stay indoors, our social media feeds are inundated with overwhelming options on how to spend that “special day.” All of this messaging serves to remind us that the standard for romantic gestures could be much higher—and more manipulatively, how your partner is failing to meet that standard. Social media, especially, subjects us to downward social comparison, which is the tendency to compare ourselves unfavorably against others. Think about it: The folks who post about their Valentine’s experiences online are those who probably have grand gestures (or coveted restaurant reservations) to brag about. People who celebrate simply or choose not to celebrate at all are not likely to post. The selective posting of others skews our perception of what everybody else is doing. If we were only to believe in what we see in our feeds, we would think that everybody was whisked off to a secluded resort, with their paths illuminated by tealight candles, and beds and bathtubs scattered with rose petals. What we don’t realize is that most of us probably chose to stay in (to avoid Manila traffic) and opted to watch TV at home. Here’s a sneaky tactic to prevent downward social comparison from ruining your night: Suggest a no-device date night. You minimize the chance that your partner compares you to others, and you get to show that your only focus for that night is each other. No work interruptions, no distracted conversations. To quote from a friend, perhaps the best Valentine’s Day gift you can give is “exclusivity of the moment.”
Valentine’s Day relationship casualties usually occur around inflated expectations when it comes to romance. Unfortunately, most of us learn about romance through fiction and not reality. Remember, fiction favors grand gestures. It also favors conflict in order to keep stories interesting. Perhaps it is not a coincidence, then, that the yearning for big romantic gestures leads to unrealistic expectations that inevitably leads to conflict. In recent years (and perhaps with age?), I have grown to become an avid fan of the slice-of-life genre. I now tend to prefer stories with minimal dramatic plot that simply show characters as they go about their day. Their conflicts or challenges, if at all, tend to be mundane. The resolutions, in turn, tend to be simple. In a way, that is how I prefer love these days. I like love that is settled. Love that shows up in the small things, in the most seemingly boring of tasks. I like love that is no longer tied to activities or events. Where simply being with each other, instead of creating exciting Hollywood-worthy experiences, are truly enough.
True love is love that is embraced throughout its many forms. The heat and passion of its beginning, the inevitable phase of disappointment and frustration as you begin to truly know your partner beyond the fog of lust and infatuation, and the settled love. This last love is the one that no longer chases after a fictionalized ideal, nor compares itself with the love that others have. It is the one that is happy where it is and is content to root itself and grow.
Real romance, then, is one that seeks to grow love. Fictional romance is one that tries to mimic love. Instead of buying into the tropes of flowers and chocolates, think about the little things that nurture your relationship, instead of proving that your relationship is better than everyone else’s.
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