Lyla Bhalla-Ladd: Valentine’s Day
My dreams kept me in bed longer than usual, so I sleep in. The sun is shining in Paris, and I think of you. I’ll have a small breakfast and plan for a brisk walk to school. It’s still cold enough to wear my trench coat, my local-passing uniform. Donning a pink bow in my hair, I play coy and pet my flowers before I leave.
I have today to finish a midterm for my art history course, so I camp out in a café before my classes and try to write. I’m distracted. The words don’t flow so I decide to take some in instead. I read my Donna Tartt and wait for the hour to pass. My professors charm me in their lectures, and I participate as I should. One of my friends joins me for our final class of the day. We laugh in the back and hide our phones behind our computer screens. I skipped the Apollo and Daphne reading last night, and so I am thankful for the girl who sits in front of me in class. The room always shifts away from her after she’s finished talking, and I enjoy the shield.
Right as class ends, I walk my friend to her metro stop before continuing on home. We’ve got similar schedules. When I get back to my apartment, I have forgotten to defrost my chicken, so I set my timer for a couple hours and drink an espresso to hold me over. I’m not too worried.
I refresh the day’s makeup and bundle up for the basement. I make my way down to the freezing, metal kitchen and prop up my phone on a spice cabinet. I hoist myself onto the counter and cover my ankles back up when they feel the cold air. I set in for the next few hours, and I have been waiting all day.
***
I woke up late, which always makes me feel like I am late all day. I remember that I did not finish my reading or my midterm and for no good reason. I hate it when it is chilly but sunny and I sweat underneath my layers that I would freeze without. How is everyone else finding the balance?
I give into my morning hunger at a café, which I am not supposed to spend money on on Mondays. Even after my almond-milk-guilt latte, I cannot write. I should have woken up earlier. My jitters compound themselves. Having nothing to say about this art boils in me. I try to read, to inspire myself, but I cannot make myself care. I scroll endlessly before I decide it is not the day for social media. I should have known that.
Each one slower than the last, my classes drudge on. The girl next to me in my last class represents all the worst characters in Gender Studies seminars. She shops online while occasionally hopping into the class discussion to virtue signal her Classics background. No one here did the reading. I will make myself do it tonight.
My walk home is cold.
Frozen chicken was all I had to make for dinner, so I am up for another couple hours. I did not want to stay up late today. My sister says everything seems worse at night. She is right. It is bleak, waiting.
Kaleef Starks: A Valentine’s Day reflection
I’ve never had a Valentine.
A day during which couples are googly-eyed, cheesy, and emotionally open. A day of expectation … Will the cute guy or gal you’ve been talking to make that move? Will they take the few months of dating to the next level?
As a 31-year-old Black transgender woman, I’m used to not experiencing love. This is a tough life to live due to my intersecting identities; it comes with a lot of rejection in dating. Despite the difficulty I have with dating, I have been practicing loving myself. It is a challenge because sometimes I struggle with wondering if my identity is the cause of the constant romantic rejection.
The hopeless romantic in me would love to celebrate the holiday, but every time I find a guy, it doesn’t last long. I get insecure and sad, often reflecting on my transgender identity as one of the main reasons why I’ve never had a healthy romantic relationship. As a trans woman, my love life has been quite difficult. Most men simply do not take me seriously as a romantic partner.
The stereotype of trans women being sex workers has been a go-to in most of my past dating experiences. They see how hard I work, how well I take care of myself and think I have a sugar daddy. I do not frown upon women who are sex workers; I am not. They think I’m easy for sex because I’m trans, and they don’t have to put in the work that they would for the heart of a cisgender woman.
I’ve only been in one relationship that lasted for one and a half months because he had issues with my gender. I hope that one day I can receive a bouquet of roses, a box of gourmet chocolates and a giant plush teddy bear. I usually celebrate Valentine’s Day by myself or with friends. I refer to the holiday as Singles’ Awareness Day. If I am not out and about with fellow single friends, I buy myself a nice wine, dinner and watch a good rom-com. It gives me cheesy hope that maybe one day I’ll experience a love story. I’ve gotten to the point as a single person where some years it makes me sad that I’ve never had a Valentine and sometimes I’m not sad at all.
I do have a dream for Valentine’s Day, though. It would simply be a day in which I do a simple and romantic activity with someone I’m deeply in love with. I’m not that hard to please, but a person who makes an effort means a lot to me. For example, if I had a lover who took me to my favorite restaurant and we did a shared couples’ activity that we loved, I would be head over heels. My heart would flutter as the hopeless romantic in me would be so satisfied.
So, is Valentine’s Day still necessary? Yes. A day that celebrates love should exist. The world is not a good place, and we are bombarded with news and negativity on a daily basis. It’s nice for love to be seen and recognized. I also think that Valentine’s Day should be less about lovers in a romantic sense and more about all forms of love. They say that there are three types of love: universal love, romantic love and self-love. All forms of love should be celebrated and highlighted on Valentine’s Day.
Brent Yoo: Valentine’s Day in Korea
Valentine’s Day was never really a big deal in Korea.
While Americans swooned over candlelit dinners and rose-strewn bedsheets, the “special” day was nothing more than a carnival of commercialism and chocolate-fueled marketing shenanigans.
Convenience stores transformed into chocolate wonderlands, each shelf boasting extravagant displays and themed packaging that resembled that of makeup and the most premium of beauty products. My favorite of the bunch still remains the Ferrero Rocher which was packaged in the shape of a heat with fake rose petals stashed neatly next to each chocolate ball.
In Korea, Valentine’s Day was the first of three chocolate-themed festive days. There was White Day on Mar. 14, when men were expected to gift chocolate to the women, and Pepero on Nov. 11. Pepero is a popular chocolate-dipped snack that people buy in bulk and give out to loved ones, friends and family.
But when I moved to the US for college, I was immediately thrust into the American whirlwind of Valentine’s Day fascination.
At the start of February, every frat party and event came packaged in bright pink ornaments and red roses — instead of Korea’s modern convenience stores, the February festivities would come mostly in the stuffy, sweat-infused, alcohol-reeking basement of frat houses.
When the clock hit 10 p.m., herds of perfume-dipped girls would walk around in red dresses and clicking heels, chased by a bigger herd of suit-donning men. And outside of the parties, every partner-less friend stayed stressed about their plans on Feb. 14.
But despite me coming to understand and even appreciate all the nuts and bolts of Valentine’s Day, I thought the day was stupid. Why do people need a particular day to treat their partner on a romantic date or garner the courage to ask their crush out? And especially with birthdays, anniversaries and holidays, why have another set date for everyone and their partners to try to do something they should already be doing?
A big part of the reason behind my loathing is that my girlfriend and I haven’t been able to celebrate properly for the last two years. Ariel, whom I dated for over two and a half years, studies across the country at UC Berkeley.
So despite being in a relationship, I never even thought twice about the day. Trust me, it wasn’t because we didn’t really love each other or weren’t the romantic kind of people. We’re the kind of couple to get matching superhero outfits at Disneyland and celebrate every 100 days of dating.
We obviously still did call each other and try to watch a movie during the day. And as embarrassing as it is to put down on paper, there was a heightened sense of emotion in our text messages and calls.
But not once did we consider sending over flowers or shipping a box of chocolate. There are other, more important days to spend $20 for express shipping, in my opinion.
I did recently find out that one of my friends, who lives in Los Angeles and his girlfriend in Europe, booked a table for one at a fancy restaurant. He told me he was going to bring his computer and call his partner while his girlfriend sat at a different restaurant on the other side of the world as they enjoyed a Valentine’s Day meal “together.”
Cute when you think about it, but to do it is a whole different level of embarrassment when you’re the one doing it.
So take it from a Korean who has yet to spend a proper Valentine’s Day with his girlfriend: Valentine’s Day is nothing greater than an excuse for people to wear revealing clothes, get confidence to ask people out and splurge on meals that they might end up eating in front of a computer screen.
Spartacus Smith: The week before
Usually around this time, I mess up. And it’s always a week before.
I make one too many jokes with him. I invest too much attention. I let my imagination run of what the two of us could be. I listen to the wrong people or social media posts and overthink my entire relationship. I apply this surface level pressure that numbs the rationale, convincing myself that deciding to be with this guy was the wrong decision from the start. All of this usually occurs just before the crimson and pink designed holiday of Valentine’s Day.
Three years ago, I decorated my bedroom wall with a large vivid red heart made of Christmas lights. Adding flavor to my bed with a bouquet of roses waiting for him, he didn’t show up. This was with my ex-boyfriend during the COVID-19 era, and I, along with other people, hoped that the fascination of love would get me through.
He wanted to smoke ‘forbidden green’ with his friends instead. Was I defeated? Yeah. However, believe me when I say this: two hours later, I realized he was obsessed with smoking weed, and then the next day we agreed to break up (a day before Valentine’s Day).
However, this year, it’s a week before Valentine’s Day, and I’m still with my boyfriend.
What does this mean? I don’t know yet. Will I mess this up? Nothing but time will tell. Can I be pessimistic and assume the worst? Absolutely. Will it help? No… But this leads to more questions. What is it about myself that derives this fate? Am I the same person as before who questions my relationship because of the fear of what the holiday of love should be like?
A metaphorical thought of romance tightens around the bands of my relationship, suffocating the future out of fear. Is this how things should be?
Is love, or rather the symbolism of what I am experiencing, supposed to be like this?
Flowers. Letters. One-on-one dinners in high-end restaurants. Rose petals to the bedroom. The ceremony of chocolates in heart-shaped boxes. To a lot of people, these expressions of admiration for a person are about the fantasy of romance rather than what the relationship actually is before the holiday.
The holiday represents a mold of outward expression, whether romantic, platonic, sexual, or even casual forms of love, but more than ever, Valentine’s Day has become a day of introspection and appreciation for yourself as well as the people you care about. It could be argued that there is no way to “mess up” Valentine’s Day, but within the concept of desire lies the possibility of dissatisfaction. While I do not know what this year’s Valentine’s Day will hold for me, may a thought go through your head if you have suffered like I have.
All of this is temporary. It’s the holiday. Enjoy the day for what it is.
Love in itself should be appreciated, celebrated, and valued every day like a lot of other holidays in the United States, but let’s be honest with ourselves. It’s not. When it comes to Valentine’s Day, a lot of us are stuck in our own heads, egos and fascinations. Know this, and take a step back.
If you’re happy, whether that status be single, in a complicated relationship, or with a mutually decided and faithful partner, moments are something worth celebrating. Worry about what could happen afterwards. Enjoy whatever becomes of your Valentine’s Day.
Wishing you the best.
Good luck,
Spartacus <3
Monique Davis: Valentine’s Day
As Valentine’s Day rolls around in just a few days, a part of me is scared that I’ll be overwhelmed with sadness as soon as I open my eyes. The other part of me is grateful for the type of parents I have.
As the month of January hits the midway point, global brands roll out their Valentine’s Day decor, social media erupts in gift wish lists, and debates on the holiday’s relevancy fill the timeline, especially if you’re single.
Exactly a year ago, I was in a loving relationship with a man who I was convinced would walk me down the aisle in a few years. Only having been with one other person previously, I felt like I was experiencing my first adult relationship. At the time, as a 24-year-old woman dating a man seven years older, I felt like I was experiencing a love that I was longing for.
In my first relationship, it was a constant cycle of begging this person to treat me right. There were many nights of crying and many holidays, like Valentine’s Day, where I would pour my heart into my gifts and receive nothing in return. But with the older man, it felt like he knew what I wanted without me uttering a word. I felt seen, protected, and soft in a way that made me feel as if I were floating every time his name crossed my mind. On Valentine’s Day, there was a knock on the door, and a sweet lady asked if I was Monique Davis. Confused yet eager to know why, I said yes, and she handed me an edible arrangement with a card that contained an explicit inside joke. A few days later, I was taken on an intimate date to the movies and dinner immediately after. He was proud to stand next to me and tell everyone that I was his girlfriend. All of my closest friends witnessed the way he loved me out loud, especially around the holidays, and made bets that he would propose by the time I finished graduate school in 2024. I was deeply in love and excited to spend the rest of my life with him because he blatantly said that he would marry me one day.
That confident dream came to an end on Aug. 14, 2023. Out of the blue, on a warm Monday night, he coldly uttered the words “I can’t do this anymore” over FaceTime. I felt like my entire life flashed before my eyes. How could a man who planned out the groomsmen he would pair with my bridesmaids a week prior just end our relationship? How could a man who raved about me to our mutual friends, about how much they loved me in my absence, just give up on what we had?
This was one week before the start of my second semester, the hardest semester of my program. As I navigated, figuring out how to cope, my parents were right there to catch me when I was too weak to move from the couch. The strong hugs and constant sayings of “it’s gonna be okay, mama,” reassurance that I would bounce back from my dad to my mom laying in bed with me for a week straight are the reasons why I refuse to be sad this Valentine’s Day.
As a young girl, my parents ensured that I felt special on each holiday, especially Valentine’s Day. I could always expect my mom to decorate our kitchen table with cute decorations, balloons and gifts. My dad would come from work with more gifts and our special Valentine’s Day dinner. We would eat as a family, and the feeling of love would radiate throughout the entire room. Years ago, when I was away for undergrad, my parents packed all that love in a care package and shipped it to my dorm room. This type of love made me appreciate not only the concept of Valentine’s Day but also seeing other people being loved out loud by their significant others and whoever they considered family.
Valentine’s Day brings me joy because I get to celebrate the love that was instilled in me and spread it to the people around me. It taught me that heartbreak could never make me lose the love in my heart, seeing other people happy and being surrounded by people who pour that same love back into me.
Peter Makk: Valentine’s Day: A love-hate relationship
Valentine’s Day: the one day a year where couples showcase their affection in the most cringe-worthy ways possible. Is it worth the hype, or is it just a holiday designed to guilt-trip the romantically challenged into spending their hard-earned money on overpriced chocolates and cheesy gifts?
Valentine’s Day is essentially a disguised celebration of love. Florists pump up the prices of roses, restaurants offer multiple course menus at extremely high prices, and the greeting card industry has one of its best days yearly at this time.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely against Valentine’s Day. There’s something very charming about seeing the heart-shaped balloons and teddy bears holding tiny plush hearts at a lot of places around the city, But I think love should not be confined to a single day on the calendar. If you need a specific date to express your love for your partner, you might want to reevaluate your relationship.
Let’s talk about my best and worst Valentine’s Day experiences.
My best Valentine’s Day was two years ago. It was the first date with my now ex-girlfriend. To be exact the date was on the 13th, after having to reschedule three times due to covid and my athletic activities. We went to an arcade, where we got to know each other, and we went to my favorite ice cream shop after. When we got back to the USC campus, I walked her home. We stopped in front of her dorm to talk about the evening for a couple minutes, and lastly shared a kiss. When we looked at the clock it was already past midnight, which means we had our first kiss on Valentine’s day.
Now, my worst Valentine’s Day experience? Surprisingly, I don’t think I’ve had one before. The day I described above is the only Valentine’s Day I can say I spent with a significant other. The bad experience is still awaiting. Honestly, I feel like I will wait a couple of years altogether before getting into something that requires me to go above and beyond for this day.
So, is Valentine’s Day worth it? Well, that’s entirely subjective. If you’re in a happy, healthy relationship and enjoy giving your significant other all the cheesy gifts in the world and grand gestures, then by all means, knock yourself out. But if you’re single, recently heartbroken or just not a fan of overpriced chocolates and the other things that come with Valentine’s day, don’t feel pressured to participate.
At the end of the day, love shouldn’t be confined to a single day on the calendar. It’s the little everyday moments that truly matter, like sharing a laugh with your partner or cuddling up on a cozy day. So, this Valentine’s Day, whether you are celebrating with your significant other, riding solo, or boycotting the whole thing altogether, remember that love comes in many, many forms, and it is worth celebrating every day of the year.
Myriam-Fernanda Alcala Delgado: Valentine’s Day is everyday: Celebrating a heterosexual money grab day with my girlfriend
A wandering gaze scanning through the options of Target’s Valentine’s Day aisle, the difficult feat of picking a card theme and an accompanied bag of candy became a highlight of this holiday.
Of course, this was prior to understanding Valentine’s as anything other than un dia de amistad, as my mom explained. My once primary school classmates slowly came to understand February 14 as a day to pick and choose who to give chocolate hearts to, the performance of flowers became an exclusionary tactic. When it was my turn and a boy walked towards me with roses, I ran the other way. This holiday wasn’t made for me.
The commodification of love during Valentine’s Day watered down the intention of showing appreciation to friends and significant others; it became about the chocolates, jewelry or whatever was marketed as the “it” item that year. This was the explanation I gave when opting out of the holiday for years. Not even the rise of “galentine’s” was appealing —I’m not a ‘gal.’
At the beginning of February this year, my coworker Kelsey met me at a flea market filled with dried roses, handmade earrings and clothes all following the pink and red theme. Similar to picking just the right card in elementary school, my eyes lit up looking through the rings before finding the perfect pair: two silver devil and angel hearts.
On our way out, the corner of my eye spotted a red lace dress. It was perfect for the occasion.
Valentine’s Day is for the straights, but separating it from its commodification and exclusion has sparked a new tenderness in my heart towards this day — it doesn’t hurt that I have a girlfriend to celebrate it with.
We played rock, paper, scissors in the middle of Trader Joe’s the weekend before the big day. There was a silent understanding that the 14th wasn’t about gifts or playing by the rules of what love is “supposed” to be or how it’s meant to be expressed. I beat Claudia in the first round, picking shrimp as an appetizer, she won and picked mochi for dessert and I finished the game with a bottle of cab.
Every day and every date is about appreciating the company of one another, not just on a marked holiday. On a random Tuesday, I’ll head to the Flower District and find cool brown velvet flowers to bring her; after a weekend away Claudia will surprise me with bat earrings.
Valentine’s Day for us is no different than every other day.
Walking home from a long shift in the Media Center I listened to the up-and-coming Mexican queer indie artist, Bratty. Claudia had asked for my thoughts since Bratty was touring her newest album, making a stop at the Roxy for Valentine’s.
With the red lace dress kept on standby, we bought tickets. So, on Wednesday after a full day of classes and work, we will be rushing to West Hollywood to spend the night among other Spanish sapphics enjoying February 14 with a community that doesn’t check mark the chocolates, flowers and gifts as a hassle to fulfill.
Then Thursday, we’ll go on another date, and another and another. Valentine’s Day isn’t special, but my girlfriend is.
Daphne Yaman: Valentine’s Day shouldn’t have to prove itself
It feels as if hating on Valentine’s Day has become a bandwagon ideology, where jealous single people and “we’re too mature for that” couples join together in a force against the rest of us who just want to have fun. They call it the ultimate “Hallmark Holiday,” as if more materialistic holidays like Christmas and Halloween don’t exist with far greater monetary expectations.
Maybe it’s because I’m a materialistic person and love any opportunity to give or receive gifts. Maybe it’s the draw of high-quality chocolates and dinners. Maybe it’s the fact that for 24 hours on February 14, I get to have an excuse to shower those around me with irrefutable love and adoration — not that I necessarily need one. Maybe it’s the memories that Valentine’s Day draws up for me of arts and crafts at school, sharing homemade treats, or giving my middle school crush a hand-picked gift bag with a ridiculously heartfelt note. Regardless, St. Valentine has never done me wrong.
And I’m confident to say that I have the experience to back up this claim.
On Valentine’s Day 2021, I was in the worst relationship of my life, although I didn’t know it at the time. It was my first long-term relationship. We were two months in at this point after a rocky start, but my 17-year-old heart was convinced he was the one. He was a hometown guy with limited aspirations and no drive to try to accomplish any of them — not even community college or living on his own. And even though we fought over trivial, childish things almost every day, Valentine’s Day was a day we both subconsciously agreed would lay untouched by any underlying, scathing feelings that may have been burning under the surface of our relationship. We had a romantic dinner and a rather tame day compared to the fire of our usual antics.
Unsurprisingly, by Valentine’s Day 2022, we had been broken up for six months. I was in my freshman year of college at USC, and he was God knows where doing God knows who. Although I had the option to turn into one of the romantically bitter individuals who makes hating Valentine’s Day their entire personality on February 14, instead, I chose to celebrate with my close friends with food, drinks and parties. Love was more abundant there than it had been the year prior.
Valentine’s Day 2023 was one of a new beginning. I was five months into my current relationship with the man I knew I was going to marry. He bought me flowers and gifts without me having to poke or prod or beg. We went to dinner and celebrated us. It was beautifully uneventful. Our first Valentine’s Day felt so real to both of us, and it was joyous to celebrate that reality.
Which brings me to now — Valentine’s Day 2024. I’m now a year and five months into my relationship with the man I’m even more certain that I’ll marry. Unfortunately, the day falls on a Wednesday, when we both have night classes, and I leave for a week-long trip early the next day, so our festivities have been postponed (although I’ve already bought his gifts: a Lego bouquet for us to assemble together and matching cat keychains as an homage to my cat Ayla, whom we co-parent very well). But we revel in the opportunity to kick my roommate out with a valid excuse (we’re celebrating our love!) and to simply exist on a day meant to celebrate the sanctity of us.
For people like me, Valentine’s Day doesn’t get the credit it deserves. It’s not an excuse to feel bad about the love you may be missing out on, it’s about doing more to celebrate the love you already have.
Cierra Morgan: Is Valentine’s Day worth the pressure? A look inside USC students’ thoughts on the importance of Valentine’s Day
Flower bouquets, chocolate-covered strawberries, and a pile of tissues to wipe the tears that Valentine’s Day brings. Is Valentine’s Day worth it? No, absolutely not. That may sound like something the Grinch who stole Christmas would say, but in this day and age, it’s true, as the true meaning of Valentine’s Day has been tossed into oblivion.
“Valentine’s Day is filled with emotions of bitterness and jealousy. Even when I did have a Valentine, I was like, you could always do better, you know,” said Brinda Acharya, a junior at USC.
Do you get it now? The concept of Valentine’s Day is heartwarming. A day dedicated to celebrating love is one of the most human things society can do. Yet, instead of preserving the innocence of the holiday, today’s society has turned the holiday into an anticipation of finding a significant other to show you an unfathomable amount of affection.
I could be biased as I spent my last Valentine’s Day in the hospital wheezing and hacking up my insides with pneumonia. However, this year, I’m in a long-term relationship with someone I love dearly, and still, I loathe the idea of celebrating February 14. It’s not because I don’t want to celebrate love. It’s because, in a relationship or not, the societal expectations to have the perfect Valentine’s Day stress me out more than finding an extravagant New Year’s Eve party.
“I don’t like Valentine’s Day,” said Ksenija Stokuca, a junior at USC. “I usually just do girls’ Valentine’s Day when we’re on the verge of tears.” The case of Galentine’s Day, where you celebrate the love you have for your female friendships, can’t even cure the heartbreak of not having a Valentine’s Day that is seen in corny rom-com movies.
Let’s switch it up. Say you do get a romantic Valentine, does it always satisfy?
“I remember I was younger, and I was at a Serbian dance practice, and one of my friends, who I didn’t know liked me, ended up coming to my dance practice with all these flowers. Everyone’s parents and friends were there, and when he brought in the flowers, I just remember feeling so embarrassed, like I wanted to throw it out. That sounds bad, but you know, when you’re younger, everything about love is embarrassing,” said Tamara Dokic, a junior at USC. Young love. In this case, extremely young love at the ripe age of five was not enough to satisfy.
Being embarrassed by a Valentine carries well on into your adult years. It starts with friends asking if you have plans, and then your mom chimes in, wondering if there’s a special someone this year. If there happens to be a love interest in your life, everyone will bombard you with questions about whether there’s anything romantic planned or what gifts you got. More likely than not, you either lie or fabricate the truth to make your day seem more special than it was.
“My crush asked me to be his Valentine last year, and I was over the moon, but when I got to his apartment on the day of, he was asleep and forgot about our plans entirely. He insisted we still go, but I told him it’s okay; I wouldn’t want to go with someone who forgot anyways,” said Kyle Brown, a senior at USC.
Brown went on to fabricate his night out to everyone he told his crush asked him to be his Valentine. “It would be more embarrassing to tell the truth than a white lie,” said Brown.
I may seem pessimistic, and maybe my mind will change on Valentine’s Day this year since it will be my first Valentine’s in a romantic relationship, but as of right now, what I’ve seen from my prior experience and the experience of others, Valentine’s Day is not worth what it is overstrung to be. I’d rather practice love every day than try to find joy on February 14. How about you?