Valentine's Day isn't always as much fun as many of us would
Hear the quiet but truthful words of Helen Baxendale, who observed: “Valentine’s Day isn’t always as much fun as many of us would like.” In this gentle confession lies a wisdom that pierces through the glitter of roses and the shine of jewelry. For she reminds us that beneath the ribbons and hearts, many find the day heavy rather than light, lonely rather than joyful. Her words cut through illusion and tell us what the heart already knows: that love is not always celebrated on command, and that a day designed for joy can sometimes bring sorrow.
The origin of this truth lies in the human heart itself. Valentine’s Day, born from ancient traditions and later sanctified by the story of Saint Valentine, has long been meant as a celebration of love and devotion. Yet in the modern world, it has become burdened by expectation, comparison, and longing. Couples may feel pressured to prove their love in grand ways; the solitary may feel left out of the feast altogether. Thus, what was intended to unite hearts often divides them, leaving many to echo Baxendale’s wisdom: the day does not always bring joy.
History shows us that this paradox is not new. In the courts of medieval Europe, where Valentine’s customs first blossomed, love was often bound by ritual and performance. Knights offered tokens to their ladies, poets sang of courtly devotion—but not all hearts rejoiced. Many who could not give or receive such tokens found themselves excluded from the celebration. Even in those days, the joy of Valentine’s was not equally shared; for some it was a crown of delight, but for others, a reminder of absence.
Consider the modern soul who longs for companionship but finds themselves alone when February 14th arrives. For them, the day is not festivity but reminder—reminder of what has not yet come, of love hoped for but not found. Or think of the couple whose relationship is strained, who sit at dinner with forced smiles, feeling the gulf between them more keenly because the day demands romance. In both cases, Baxendale’s words prove true: Valentine’s Day is not always as much fun as we would like it to be.
The ancients knew well that the heart’s seasons cannot be commanded. Did not Solomon himself write in his wisdom, “Do not awaken love before it pleases”? Love cannot be summoned by decree, nor joy forced upon a weary spirit. Baxendale reminds us of this eternal truth—that a festival of love may bring happiness to some, but to others, it may awaken longing, disappointment, or loneliness. Her words call us to compassion, to remember that behind the bright colors of the day, there are hearts in shadow.
Yet there is also hope in this saying. For if Valentine’s Day cannot guarantee joy, it also cannot define love. True love is not confined to a single day, nor does its worth rise and fall with the calendar. Love lives in daily acts of kindness, in patience, in understanding, in friendship, in the bonds of family, and in the quiet strength of compassion shared with strangers. The day may fail us, but love itself does not fail. The lesson is to seek love not only in ritual, but in life.
Practical action begins here: do not measure love by Valentine’s Day alone. Celebrate it throughout the year in small, genuine acts. If you find yourself alone, use the day not as a mirror of absence but as a chance to give love outward—to friends, to family, to those in need. If you are with another, let your affection not be confined to gifts or gestures on one day, but woven into the daily fabric of your life. In this way, the sting of unfulfilled expectation may be transformed into the steady joy of love lived authentically.
So let Baxendale’s words echo as gentle wisdom: “Valentine’s Day isn’t always as much fun as many of us would like.” Let them remind us that no single day can bear the full weight of human longing. And let us, instead of clinging to one fleeting moment, choose to live lives where love is constant, compassion is daily, and joy is not bound by date or custom. For then, whether Valentine’s Day delights us or disappoints us, our hearts will remain steadfast, rich in the deeper treasures of enduring love.
UGUser Google
Baxendale’s comment reminds me of how commercialized Valentine’s Day has become. It’s no longer just about love, but about meeting certain expectations. From flowers to fancy dinners, it feels like a day of performance. Why do we let ourselves get caught up in the pressure? How can we return to a more genuine and personal approach to the day without feeling overwhelmed by what we’re ‘supposed’ to do?
LXvinh Le xuan
This quote captures the feeling that Valentine’s Day is often more stressful than joyful. With all the pressure to have the ‘perfect’ date or buy the ‘perfect’ gift, it’s easy to forget what the day is really about—love and connection. What would it take to make Valentine’s Day less about expectations and more about authentic, low-pressure expressions of affection? Could we learn to enjoy it without the stress?
NMNa My
Baxendale’s insight really resonates with me. Valentine’s Day is supposed to be fun, yet for some, it only adds more stress. Whether it’s the pressure to find the perfect gift or the fear of being left out, the day can sometimes feel more like a competition than a celebration. How do we shift the focus back to genuine affection and care, rather than getting caught up in perfection?
PTNgo Thi Phuong Trang
Helen Baxendale's quote speaks to the often-overlooked stress that comes with Valentine's Day. It’s supposed to be a fun and romantic day, but for many, it can feel forced or filled with expectations. Why do we set such high standards for one day? Could the pressure to make Valentine’s Day perfect sometimes ruin the enjoyment we could have had if we simply embraced it without overthinking?