I’ve never been a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. I suspect that most people like being shown affection and love, and I am certainly no exception. But I also feel like these things don’t need Hallmark as a proponent, nor should they be limited to the 14th of February, and for romantically involved mammal pairings at that.

If anything, I’m the anti-Hallmark of lurve, and my idea of a romantic classic is one that’s been described as an erotic black comedy (Secretary, for inquiring minds). Public displays of affection skeeve me out so badly that I still get irritable if my husband drapes an arm around me in public. (Sometimes….also in private. But that’s because I’m as domestic as a feral cat.) Yes, I like attention. No, I don’t like feeling like a human prop or trophy.

Tenderness arrives in gestures unseen to the outside world: knowing your significant other’s favourite snacks, folding endless pairs of their underwear and socks, and hiding little notes for them to find days, weeks, or months later. For me, it’s never been about flash mobs and fancy gifts, matching tracksuits, or public declarations of love that demandingly scream “see, I’m better than you. We’re better than you.” Love is messy and complicated.

My parents have been married for almost 53 years, which is a milestone I can only hope to achieve, given that I’ll likely be toothless and insane by the point that becomes feasible for me and Mr. Holliday. My mother recently explained that she and my dad have an unspoken love language that I had never questioned in all the time I’ve known or lived with them: they say “I love you” by tapping each other three times in quick succession. Amusingly, it originated from my mother grumbling that she was sometimes too tired to say the three magic words to my dad every time he did, and it evolved into this simple gesture that my dad will apparently do in the middle of the night, even if he’s just getting up to go the loo. (Sorry, dad.) More than cinematic moments, it’s that level of everyday comfort that I crave: the idea that I will be loved on the other 364 days of the year, the ones that don’t even amount to something worth bragging about.

In the spirit of flipping off Hallmark, here’s the least romantic song I know of that uses the words “Valentine’s Day” in its title, although heaven help me, I do love Bowie.

David Bowie: Valentine’s Day

May all your days bring you love of any kind, romantic or not.