Every Valentine's Day, I pretend I don't care. Like many of us

Hear this truth, O future generations, for in the words of Elizabeth Flock, we find an unspoken confession that echoes deep in the hearts of many. “Every Valentine’s Day, I pretend I don’t care. Like many of us, I say I don’t want the flowers or chocolates or a homemade card. How cheesy. I pretend that it’s over-the-top to want the person you like to make you a ridiculously nice dinner, or do some showy gesture, ala John Cusack with the boombox in 'Say Anything.'” In this, Flock reveals a quiet rebellion against the expectations of love, and perhaps even a desire to protect the heart from the weight of expectation and the illusion that love must be demonstrated in grand displays.

From the ancient days, love has been celebrated in many forms—sacred rituals, poetry, and grand gestures. Rome had its festivals dedicated to Juno, goddess of marriage, while in Greece, lovers would carve their names into the bark of trees, leaving behind an eternal token of their affection. Yet even in these glorious moments of love, there were those who recoiled at the performance of it all—the showy displays, the excess that stripped love of its quiet beauty. In the hearts of these humble souls, love was never meant to be a spectacle but a deep connection, forged in the stillness of shared moments, not in the loud proclamation of affection.

Flock’s words, though perhaps said in jest, speak to the unspoken conflict many face in this modern age of social expectations and consumerism. The world demands that we wear our love like armor, that we show it off, that we spend and indulge to prove our devotion. Yet, beneath this, many souls long for something simpler—a love that does not need to be adorned with gifts or displays, but one that is rooted in genuine affection. Just as the poets of old spoke of love as something eternal and unseen, so too do many of us seek the quiet moments that show love is more than what can be bought or seen.

Consider the romantic poets, such as Petrarch, who praised the beauty of his love for Laura, not with grand gifts or gestures, but with the words of his soul. It was not the riches he lavished upon her, but the depth of his affection, the love that spoke through his writing and devotion, that defined their bond. In this sense, Flock's sentiment is not a rejection of love, but an acknowledgment that love, in its truest form, does not require an audience. It does not need the world to see it. True love exists in the quiet, humble corners of life, and often, it speaks without words or performances.

Flock speaks of the pretense of not caring about the grand gestures, yet in that very pretense, she reflects a deeper truth. Why do we pretend that we do not long for the gestures of affection that have become symbols of our deepest desires? Why do we hide our need for the flowers, the chocolates, and the gestures that carry with them the weight of sincerity? Is it because we have been taught that love should be simple and unadorned, when in reality, we all yearn for something more—something that reflects the depth of our feeling, something that speaks beyond the confines of words?

Let us turn to the example of John Cusack in Say Anything, a symbol of how love can sometimes transcend the ordinary and rise into something heroic and eternal. There is wisdom in this gesture, for it represents the act of vulnerability, the willingness to make oneself known, and to lay bare one’s heart. It is not the grandness of the gesture that speaks, but the honesty of the person behind it. So, too, must we understand that love, in all its forms, whether in grand gestures or quiet moments, requires both vulnerability and authenticity.

Thus, the lesson here, O children of the future, is not one of rejecting love’s expressions, whether quiet or loud, but of understanding their true meaning. The flowers, the chocolates, the grand gestures, are not empty symbols, but expressions of the desire to be seen, the longing to connect. They are not the true measure of love, but reflections of it, as seen through the eyes of the giver. Yet let us also remember that love—in its deepest, truest form—is not always loud or showy. Sometimes, the most profound expressions of love are found in the simplest moments—those that require no grand performance, but only the presence and authenticity of the heart.

Live with this wisdom, O future generations: Love does not fit neatly into the expectations of society, nor should it. It is both humble and heroic, quiet and grand. It exists in the grand gestures, but also in the smallest moments of understanding. And when we find ourselves pretending not to care, let us also remember that love is both the silent and the sung, the quiet gesture and the loud one, all intertwined in a tapestry that reflects the fullness of our hearts.