February 15, 2014 | Love on the 14th — A Valentine’s Day Among Friends, Overcrowded Restaurants, and the Discovery That Love Comes Without a Prince Charming

February 14 is a fascinating day to observe human behaviour. For twenty-four hours, perfectly sensible individuals begin carrying oversized teddy bears through shopping malls, florists become extraordinarily important members of society, and men who ordinarily struggle to choose what to eat for lunch suddenly find themselves making complicated decisions about flower arrangements. Red becomes the unofficial national colour, chocolates acquire diplomatic significance, and restaurants experience what can only be described as a romantic invasion. Meanwhile, somewhere among the bouquets, heart-shaped balloons, and couples gazing affectionately at one another, a group of friends is trying to decide where to eat. I happened to belong to that group, and I must say that our Valentine’s Day was considerably more entertaining than any fairy tale I had imagined as a little girl.

There was a time when the word love immediately transported me into the wonderfully impractical world of Prince Charming, knights in shining armour, and romantic stories in which somebody always arrived at exactly the right moment. Like many young girls, I grew up imagining that love involved meeting someone extraordinary, preferably someone capable of making grand declarations without appearing the least bit embarrassed. I suppose fairy tales were partly responsible. They had convinced an entire generation that somewhere in the world, a handsome prince was waiting to recognise his future princess, overcome a series of dramatic obstacles, and conclude everything with the appropriate happily-ever-after. Nobody seemed particularly interested in explaining what happened after the wedding, when somebody forgot to wash the dishes or discovered that Prince Charming snored.

As I grew older, however, I began to realise that life does not always cooperate with the scripts we invent for it. People are considerably more complicated than fictional characters, and affection rarely follows a convenient storyline. Relationships require patience, understanding, communication, and the willingness to recognise that another person possesses opinions and habits that may differ from our own. Love can be beautiful, certainly, but it is not automatically effortless simply because two people have developed feelings for one another. Perhaps that is why I have gradually become more interested in the quieter ways people express their affection, particularly when there is no special occasion requiring them to do so.

Still, Valentine’s Day has a remarkable ability to bring all those childhood expectations back into public view.

Yesterday, as my friends and I walked through the streets and inside the mall, romance appeared to have occupied practically every available corner. Men were buying chocolates, bouquets, balloons, and other gifts intended to communicate affection. Couples wandered through the shopping areas holding hands, while others seemed perfectly content to stop wherever they pleased and demonstrate just how delighted they were with one another’s company. I have nothing against affectionate couples, of course, but February 14 does make one wonder whether the entire city has decided to participate in a romantic exhibition.

Public displays of affection were everywhere. Some couples walked so closely together that separating them would probably have required an official request. Others embraced as though they had just been reunited after a journey around the world, despite presumably having arrived at the mall together. I found myself observing the different ways people expressed their feelings, occasionally amused by how little some of them seemed to notice the crowds surrounding them. Perhaps love has a way of reducing one’s awareness of ordinary public inconveniences. I would not know for certain, but I suspect that is why people in relationships can sometimes stand in the middle of a busy walkway without realising that the rest of humanity is attempting to pass.

I should clarify that I was not offended. In fact, I was happy to see so many people enjoying themselves. There is something rather lovely about watching two people who genuinely appreciate each other’s company. I am particularly fond of seeing older couples who have remained together through the years. Their affection seems to carry a different kind of meaning, shaped by experiences that extend far beyond the excitement of a first date or the novelty of receiving flowers. I imagine they have shared responsibilities, disagreements, ordinary frustrations, and countless moments that would never make it into a romantic film. Yet somehow, they have continued choosing to build their lives together.

When I see couples like that, I find myself believing that lasting love is possible.

Not because every relationship is destined to resemble a fairy tale, but because there are people who have demonstrated that affection can endure through changing circumstances. Perhaps their secret is far less glamorous than the stories we grew up reading. Perhaps it involves knowing when to apologise, remembering the other person’s preferences, remaining considerate during difficult days, and accepting that loving someone does not mean finding a person who will agree with everything we say. Those qualities may not inspire an expensive Valentine’s Day advertisement, but I suspect they are far more useful in everyday life.

Nevertheless, the romantic atmosphere of the mall was only part of my Valentine’s Day experience. I had made plans with my friends, and I was looking forward to spending the occasion with people whose company never requires expensive flowers or carefully rehearsed declarations. We decided to celebrate together, enjoying the opportunity to go out, eat, and spend time away from our usual responsibilities. After the demanding weeks I had recently experienced at the hospital, an afternoon with friends sounded particularly appealing.

My work schedule has been exhausting lately, and I have been learning how much energy regular hospital duty requires. There are days when I return home with very little enthusiasm for activities beyond sleeping, eating, and preparing for the next shift. The responsibilities of nursing can occupy so much of my attention that I occasionally forget how pleasant it feels to spend time doing something entirely unrelated to medication rounds, patient observations, and hospital corridors. Yesterday gave me that opportunity, and I was delighted to exchange my usual professional concerns for the considerably simpler question of what to order for lunch.

Naturally, our celebration involved food.

We decided to dine at Jonie’s, where we ordered a selection of delicious dishes and settled into the familiar enjoyment of sharing a meal together. I have always believed that good company can improve almost any dining experience, although a satisfying menu certainly helps. There is something wonderfully relaxing about sitting around a table with friends, discussing whatever happens to come to mind, and allowing conversations to develop without worrying about the next clinical responsibility. We could laugh, exchange opinions, and enjoy ourselves without checking whether somebody needed assistance in the next room.

I sometimes wonder whether friendship should come with an official warning about the amount of laughter it can produce. My friends have a remarkable ability to transform ordinary situations into something amusing, particularly when we are all together and nobody feels the need to behave with unnecessary formality. One person makes a comment, another responds, and suddenly a perfectly innocent conversation becomes an entertainment programme with no script and absolutely no guarantee of sensible conclusions. I cannot remember every subject we discussed yesterday, but I know that being surrounded by people whose company I enjoy made the occasion memorable.

Perhaps that is one of the things I appreciate most about friendship. It does not always require extraordinary activities. We do not need to travel somewhere expensive, organise an elaborate celebration, or purchase gifts to prove that we care about one another. Sometimes a meal, an afternoon stroll, and a few hours spent talking are enough to make an ordinary day worth remembering. The activity itself may be simple, but the people involved can give it significance.

After eating at Jonie’s, we decided to stroll around the mall before going home. I enjoy these unhurried moments because they allow us to spend time together without a strict plan. We can look around the shops, observe the crowds, and continue whatever conversations began during lunch. Yesterday, of course, the mall offered an extraordinary collection of romantic decorations and Valentine’s Day shoppers. Everywhere we looked, there seemed to be another arrangement of red hearts or somebody making a purchase intended for a special person.

I imagine the flower shops had a particularly profitable day.

There is something amusing about the economy of Valentine’s Day. A flower that might ordinarily be appreciated for its beauty suddenly becomes a declaration of affection, while a box of chocolates acquires the responsibility of communicating feelings that someone may have struggled to express in words. I do not think there is anything wrong with gifts. Thoughtful gestures can be lovely, especially when they reflect genuine consideration for the person receiving them. But I sometimes wonder whether the pressure surrounding Valentine’s Day makes people forget that affection can be expressed in ways that do not require a receipt.

I have seen people become disappointed because they did not receive flowers or chocolates, and I understand why those expectations can develop. We are surrounded by advertisements, romantic stories, and photographs of couples exchanging beautiful presents. It becomes easy to imagine that the value of someone’s affection can be measured by the size of a bouquet or the extravagance of a celebration. But surely a relationship deserves to be understood through more than what happens on one particular day of the year.

A person who remembers your concerns, listens when you need to talk, and treats you with consideration throughout the year may be expressing something far more meaningful than an expensive gift purchased because the calendar demands it. That does not mean flowers are unimportant or that romantic gestures are unnecessary. I would certainly not object to receiving a beautiful bouquet someday, particularly if somebody happens to remember which flowers I like. But I hope I never become so distracted by the presentation of affection that I overlook the behaviour accompanying it.

The same thought applies to friendship.

My friends and I did not need heart-shaped balloons to enjoy Valentine’s Day together. We did not require romantic declarations or carefully arranged surprises. We simply made time for one another, shared a meal, and spent the afternoon enjoying the familiar comfort of being together. There was something satisfying about celebrating a day associated with love without limiting its meaning to romantic relationships.

I think I am beginning to understand how narrow my childhood definition of love had been.

When I was younger, I associated the idea almost exclusively with finding that imaginary prince who would somehow recognise me among all the other girls in the kingdom. I did not think as carefully about the affection already present in my life through family, friends, and people who had accompanied me through different stages of growing up. Perhaps those relationships seemed too familiar to attract the same excitement as a romantic fairy tale. We often become accustomed to the people who care about us, forgetting that their continued presence is something valuable in itself.

Friendship has taught me that affection can exist without elaborate promises. It can be found in the person who remembers a detail from a conversation, checks whether you are all right, or makes time to meet despite a busy schedule. It appears in the friend who listens to your complaints without immediately becoming impatient, the person who tells you when you are being unreasonable, and the companion who can make you laugh when your day has been unnecessarily difficult.

I appreciate those things more now than I did when I was younger.

Perhaps working as a nurse has contributed to that understanding. Spending time around patients has reminded me how much human relationships matter when circumstances become uncertain. Illness can affect routines, independence, and the ability to carry out familiar activities. During those experiences, people often value the presence and support of family members and friends. Watching individuals receive reassurance from someone they trust has made me appreciate that affection is not confined to extraordinary celebrations. Sometimes it is expressed through the ordinary act of being available when another person needs help.

I do not want to suggest that every friendship is perfect or that loving someone automatically makes relationships easy. People disagree, misunderstand one another, and occasionally behave in ways that test the patience of those closest to them. I am certainly capable of being stubborn, and I suspect my friends could provide convincing evidence if questioned. Yet relationships become meaningful partly because people learn how to understand one another through those differences.

I have known friends who can make me laugh when I least expect it and others who are willing to listen when I become overly concerned about something. There are people who understand my personality without expecting an elaborate explanation, and others who have helped me reconsider opinions I once believed were entirely reasonable. Such friendships have influenced how I understand myself and the people around me.

And perhaps that is why yesterday meant more than simply having a pleasant Valentine’s Day.

It gave me an opportunity to celebrate relationships that are already part of my life.

There is a certain freedom in spending Valentine’s Day with friends. Nobody has to worry about whether the evening is romantic enough, whether the flowers are sufficiently impressive, or whether a particular gesture has lived up to the expectations created by films and advertisements. We can simply enjoy ourselves, laugh at the occasional absurdity of the occasion, and appreciate the people sitting beside us.

Of course, that does not mean I have abandoned my belief in romantic love.

I still find the idea beautiful, especially when I observe couples who have remained committed to one another through years of changing circumstances. I still enjoy romantic stories, and I am not immune to the charm of a thoughtful gesture. Perhaps somewhere in the world, somebody is preparing to become an important part of my life, although I sincerely hope he has developed a personality more interesting than that of a fictional prince whose primary qualification is possessing a horse and a shiny suit of armour.

I imagine that whoever he may be, he will be considerably more ordinary than the characters I once admired.

And perhaps that is a good thing.

Real people have ambitions, weaknesses, responsibilities, and complicated personalities. They occasionally become tired, make mistakes, and disagree about things that seem terribly important at the time. Loving someone means learning how to appreciate a person who cannot possibly behave like a perfect fictional character every day. The idea may be less glamorous than a fairy tale, but it also seems more interesting because it allows two people to develop a relationship based upon who they actually are.

Still, I am in no particular hurry to organise my entire understanding of happiness around the arrival of Prince Charming. There are friendships to enjoy, professional goals to pursue, family relationships to appreciate, and countless experiences I have not yet encountered. I do not think life should become a waiting room in which every meaningful activity is postponed until someone arrives carrying a bouquet.

Yesterday was proof of that.

I spent Valentine’s Day laughing with friends, enjoying good food, and wandering through a mall filled with people celebrating affection in different ways. I did not need the occasion to resemble a romantic movie to find it enjoyable. The memories we created were ordinary, perhaps, but they belonged to a day when we made time for one another despite our individual responsibilities.

I am glad we took photographs.

As much as I enjoy preserving special occasions, I know that pictures can only capture part of what makes an experience meaningful. A photograph may show us smiling together at Jonie’s or posing during our afternoon stroll, but it cannot reproduce every conversation, joke, or little moment that made the day enjoyable. Still, I appreciate having something to look back upon. Years from now, I may come across these photographs and remember that in February 2014, I celebrated Valentine’s Day with a group of friends whose company made the occasion worthwhile.

Perhaps I will laugh at our poses or wonder what possessed us to make certain expressions in front of the camera.

I suppose that is one of the risks of documenting one’s younger years.

But I would much rather have photographs that make me laugh than reach the future wishing I had preserved more of the ordinary moments I enjoyed.

I have also been thinking about the people who may have spent Valentine’s Day alone. The advertisements surrounding the occasion can make it seem as though happiness belongs exclusively to those who have romantic partners. Shopping centres are decorated with hearts, restaurants promote special meals for couples, and social media becomes crowded with declarations of affection. It is easy for someone who is single, separated from loved ones, or simply experiencing a difficult period to feel excluded from the celebration.

I hope we remember that a person’s relationship status does not determine whether their life contains meaningful affection.

Some people may enjoy Valentine’s Day with friends or family. Others may prefer a quiet day to themselves. There is no universal requirement to celebrate romance, and nobody should feel that an ordinary February 14 is evidence of something missing from their life. Love can be important without becoming the only measure of personal happiness.

Perhaps the most amusing thing about Valentine’s Day is how much pressure we place upon twenty-four hours. We expect flowers, surprises, declarations, photographs, special meals, and proof that somebody considers us important. Yet the qualities that sustain relationships are usually demonstrated over far longer periods. Consideration matters on February 15 just as much as it does on February 14, particularly when the decorations have been removed and everyone has returned to ordinary responsibilities.

I imagine love would be considerably easier to recognise if we paid as much attention to people’s everyday behaviour as we do to their Valentine’s Day gestures.

Who remembers to ask how your day went when you are exhausted? Who listens when you are troubled? Who makes an effort to understand your circumstances instead of assuming that everything should revolve around their own preferences? Who remains considerate when there is no audience, no camera, and no special occasion encouraging them to behave romantically?

Those questions may not appear on the usual Valentine’s Day greeting cards, but I suspect their answers matter considerably.

And the answers do not always involve a romantic partner.

Yesterday, for me, they involved friends.

I find that rather wonderful.

When I think back to the little girl who imagined love arriving in the form of a handsome prince, I feel a mixture of affection and amusement. She was not entirely wrong to believe that romance could be beautiful. She simply had not yet realised how many other forms of love would become important as she grew older. She had not experienced all the friendships that would influence her personality, the professional relationships that would make exhausting duties more manageable, or the ordinary moments when being surrounded by familiar people would be enough to make a day memorable.

She also had absolutely no idea how crowded restaurants could become on Valentine’s Day.

Perhaps that particular lesson should have been included in the fairy tales.

As I finish writing this entry, I find myself grateful for yesterday’s little celebration. After the demands of hospital duty, it was refreshing to spend time with my friends and enjoy an occasion that did not involve clinical responsibilities. The food at Jonie’s was delicious, the stroll around the mall was entertaining, and the abundance of affectionate couples provided enough observations to keep my imagination occupied for several hours.

But what I appreciate most is that the day reminded me to recognise the people who are already close to my heart.

We often imagine that love must announce itself through extraordinary gestures, yet some of its most meaningful expressions are woven into ordinary relationships. It appears in the patience of a friend, the concern of a family member, and the simple willingness to make time for another person. These things may attract less attention than a giant teddy bear or an expensive bouquet, but their significance can continue long after Valentine’s Day has passed.

I still believe in romantic love. I still find it delightful to see couples who have remained together through the years, and I hope their affection continues to grow beyond the excitement of special occasions. But I am grateful to have discovered that love does not belong exclusively to those holding hands beneath a collection of red balloons.

Yesterday, Cupid appeared to have been extraordinarily busy around the mall. He had flowers to supervise, chocolates to distribute, and enough romantic activity to justify requesting additional staff. My friends and I, meanwhile, had a table at Jonie’s, a satisfying meal, and an afternoon full of laughter.

I think we were all rather fortunate.

And should Prince Charming eventually make an appearance in my life, I hope he understands something important. He may be welcome to bring flowers, chocolates, and whatever thoughtful gestures he considers appropriate, but he should not expect to become the sole proprietor of my happiness.

My family and friends were part of my story long before he appeared, and I intend to appreciate them just as much afterwards.

Besides, anybody hoping to win my heart should probably understand that I take food and friendship very seriously.

Valentine’s Day may belong to lovers in the advertisements, but yesterday reminded me that the people who make our lives meaningful do not all arrive carrying roses. Some simply turn up hungry and ask where we are eating.

February 15, 2014 — for the friends who made Valentine’s Day memorable, the couples who remind me that lasting affection is possible, and the childhood fairy tales that neglected to mention how wonderfully ordinary love can be.

— Just Anj, RN, whose Valentine’s Day came with good friends, good food, and absolutely no shortage of public displays of affection.