When the SoCal rain clears and early spring nudges its way into the world, we face a harrowing realization: Valentine’s Day is coming. If you’re like us, you usually spend America’s pinkest holiday with your friends or in bed. But if you’re really like us, the sadder truth is this: it’s been a long time since you’ve spent Valentine’s Day with someone you’re into.
As the day approaches, we’re here to ask: Is spending Valentine’s Day single empowering or just plain sad?
But first, let us introduce ourselves. We’re Siena Giacoma PZ ’27 and Arianna Kaplan SC ’27, and this is 5Cs After Dark: a column about sex, love and relationships at the 5Cs.
Siena: February has come again and it’s time to re-evaluate Valentine’s Day. For me, this will be the second year in a row I pretend that celebrating Galentine’s Day is a proper substitute for actual romance.
Personally, I choose to “opt out” of Valentine’s Day because I can’t find any genuine intimacy at the 5Cs. At these schools, we debate ethics, dissect culture and analyze systems of power, but all that critical thinking goes out the window as soon as someone likes you on Hinge. I have many imagined preconceptions about perfect relationships, but when it comes to putting those ideas into practice, it seems we often follow scripts borrowed from hookup culture or social media rather than our own values. Nothing screams sexual chemistry like “seen 2 hours ago” in the DMs.
What the fuck is up with that? When did emotional maturity become optional? That’s why Valentine’s Day hits a nerve. Not because I’m desperate for a fancy dinner or roses that will die in three days, but because the holiday exposes the gap between what we say we value and what we actually do. We can debate consent theory for two hours, but can’t send a clear text? Be serious.
Ari: I’m with you on not loving Valentine’s Day. I wouldn’t say that I hate it — I just don’t think that a commercialized day can explain your feelings for someone. I’m not bitter about love itself. Who doesn’t love love? Love is beautiful, I just don’t believe that red-and-pink balloons are a sufficient display of affection. Where I think we disagree, though, is on Galentine’s Day.Valentine’s Day, historically, has not always been about romantic love. In Finnish, Valentine’s Day, “ystävänpäivä,” translates to “friend’s day.” In Finland, they don’t place the same emphasis on romance. While I’m not saying the Finns do it better than us, it is interesting to see how much pressure we put on ourselves to conform to a standard that would raise eyebrows across the world.
I like Galentine’s Day. I think that you can get kinda meta with it in a counter-culture, subvert-the-norm-while-being-aware-of-the-standard kind of way. But I get it if you disagree.
Siena: I understand that Galentine’s Day, on paper, is a sound alternative to conforming to mainstream celebrations. Hot girls, good outfits, overpriced pasta and communal venting? I love the idea, but let’s be honest: how is that any different from what I do with my friends on any other girls’ night?
Galentine’s Day is cute. I love my friends. I will absolutely wear a good outfit and split a bottle of wine, but let’s not pretend it’s the same thing. Friendship is essential; it’s just not a substitute for being intentionally, romantically chosen. There is also something rankling about Galentine’s Day. The idea of us girls (or whomever) hanging out isn’t the problem — it’s more that it feels like it’s trying to make up for a relationship that we’ve been spoon-fed to believe that we need to exist. You know?
Ari: Yeah, I get that. It’s okay to feel sad if you’re not in a typical relationship on Valentine’s Day. Even if you are in a relationship, the pressure that the holiday places on you is heavy, especially if you’re not happy with your partner. Last year, I spent hours making a handmade gift for my boyfriend. I knew we were going to break up, (and we did, a few weeks later), but I felt like it was an obligation to go above and beyond because it was our first Valentine’s Day together. That sadness is a valid response to a culture that has tied intimacy to performance and tells you your worth is measured in romantic affirmation.
Siena: I guess I’m not anti–Valentine’s Day, I’m anti-mediocrity. If we’re going to roll our eyes at the holiday, we should at least have the emotional range to do better than a situationship and a “you up?” text.
Ari: Yeah, completely. That’s just gross. I’m pro-Galentine’s Day. I’d rather be single in the company of friends than sad with my own boyfriend. Even if the perfect partner is out there, I think that every day should be Valentine’s Day, not just the day that America dictates it to be.
Siena: In the end, do what you want this Valentine’s Day. Choosing the intimacy of your own company, a deep conversation with a friend or the calm satisfaction of noticing the last light hit Pitzer Hall is not sad. It is a valid celebration of intimacy, the kind the day has forgotten to honor.
Siena Giacoma PZ ’27 and Arianna Kaplan SC ’27 are aspiring documentarians of the sexually awkward, which they consider a noble and vastly undervalued literary genre. They have consciously chosen the unstable but vibrant path of writers, betting on a future of rich inner lives and fascinating anecdotes over sensible things like 401(k)s or a basic understanding of Excel.