So it’s Valentine’s Day today.
According to this Sunday Times article, I should be locking myself up in the toilet right now because I did not receive a gigantic bouquet of flowers.
Must love be reduced to merely a bundle of flowers wrapped in pretty paper and girly ribbon?
The other day, the boyfriend and I were discussing about love. I mused about how we knew that we were in love with the other for who he or she is and not for what he or she has come to represent. Meaning, how do we tell if we are in love for the right reasons? What if we were merely luxuriating in the warmth of being pampered and loved by someone else and not truly in love with them?
My own moment of clarity came a few months after we started going out more than five years ago. He would usually ring me after sending me home to let me know that he has reached home safely. One night, I waited in vain for his call and my efforts to reach him were futile. I grew sick with worry and my overactive imagination started running wild. It was then that I realised, if he were to go from my life, I would be terribly wrecked with grief (which I, eventually, was).
For some, Valentine’s Day is a good excuse to pamper their loved ones. Well, if they enjoy splashing out, good for them.
As for me, I’d like to think that every moment that I spend with the boyfriend is a treasured one. It’s never easy to find love and to find it again after losing it once makes it even more priceless.
So how do I know that I love him for who he is and not for what he can do for me?
I know because even if he could never afford to give me diamonds and flowers, I would still want to be with him.
(As long as I get the occasional Mac goodie and he is not perpetually playing Halo2.)
