I hate Valentine’s Day.

And not because I’m lonely or because I've given up on finding love.

I do believe in love, actually. Like a lot. And I think that honest, earth-shaking, life-changing love does exist – for everyone, in some capacity or another. But the overly commercialized, advertised, and emphasized Valentine’s Day doesn’t really feel like the genuine evoking of love or the pinnacle of romantic passion.

Valentine's Day is a seemingly trite holiday that creates expectations for couples to make outwardly forward gestures in hopes of expressing their ‘truest emotions’ to each other (and to all of social media).

It’s sort of like your mom telling your little brother to say he's sorry for hitting you: it’s nice to hear the words out of his mouth – and maybe he does mean it – but he was prompted to say it, and the gesture just feels less genuine and incredibly inorganic.

But don’t get me wrong, I am a closet romantic (read: a strong-willed, stubborn feminist who loves a good love story). And I’m all about a random bouquet of flowers or a surprise reservation at your favorite restaurant in town – the little just because moments.

I think simple gestures and materialisms can be a great love language for couples – a conversation and an effort that goes both ways, as languages do – helping to express themselves and their feelings to each other in ways that words sometimes fall short of communicating.

It says, “I actually was listening when you said you loved that pair of shoes,” or, “I know how stressed you are, and a spa day is just what you need.”

I welcome the extra tangible expression of romanticism and physicality in a relationship. I revel in his words and in his vulnerability, unveiling the honest composition of our relationship and the truth of his emotions.

I’m not saying that what we do, say, give, and express on Valentine’s Day is too elaborate, unhealthy, or that it shouldn’t be done. But I am saying that when those same gestures and efforts are made not on Valentine’s Day, it just seems to be a little sweeter.

So, if he’s going to buy me flowers, I want it to be because he thought of me on his way home, and he knew I could use a smile; if he’s going to give me chocolate, I want it to be because he knows I like my late night sweet treat (although, we both know I’m more of an ice cream girl); and if he’s going to say ‘I love you,’ I want it to be without pressure or expectation, on his own time, in his own way.

And I'm going to do the same. Because spontaneously, unexpectedly, and irrevocably is the only way I know how to love.