I always had fairytale-like expectations when it comes to love—how it would be a perfect fit with the right person. But when I received a bouquet of flowers from my partner, I realized that underneath the perfect portrayal of the feeling, love is actually filled with compromise and growth.
I was never a fan of roses. To me, they are the kind of flowers you give to just anyone. Because they are so common and accessible, you can simply walk into a flower shop, pick the closest rose arrangement, and leave. For me, roses are not the kind of flowers you give to someone you love—someone you think about every single day.
Or so I thought.
Then I opened the door, revealing my significant other, holding a bouquet of pink roses in his hand.
Social media as our relationship therapist
In this digital era, the easiest place to get love advice would be the internet. With millions of romance content free for anyone to digest, getting dragged into the rabbit hole of relationship standards is hard to escape. There are TikTok theories such as the “Rice Cooker Theory,” “Orange Peel Theory,” “Taxi Cab Theory,” and the “December Theory.” They may be inspired by beloved series, movies, or even from personal affairs, but these are not experiences shared by everyone and should not be used as a definitive measure of a relationship's health.
Even when it comes to starting a connection, steps need to be followed, hence the existence of the “three-month-rule.” The biggest digital advocacy has always been, “If he wanted to, he would,” and that’s something I stand by—but to an extent, of course. People tend to forget that their partners have uncontrollable limitations due to the unrealistic expectations that we have, influenced by the media.
Trends turn love into a template
Every Valentine’s Day, pictures and videos that portray the happier side of our relationship flood the internet. This can make a person swoon from the sight of loving eyes and wide smiles. But this does not only happen every time we celebrate the season of hearts, at least for me, whenever I scroll through my Instagram feed, couples fill my line of vision—happy moments at that. However, it made me wonder if these posts are starting to cloud our judgment and spark an unspoken competition that plays out through our screens.
For some reason, when our partners don’t post us, we tend to assume it’s because they’re ashamed of us—or worse—that they don’t love us. This makes it a dealbreaker for most couples. But, on the contrary, what does it mean when our posts’ intentions start to come from wanting to flaunt our relationships? When showing our affection to people outside of our relationships used to be a sign of loving loudly—now, it becomes an action that you have to do? Could this be to prove to everyone else that you’re loved? Possibly. Or perhaps it stems from the fear of being called a “red flag.”
Apparently, a relationship consists of you, your partner, and three flags—green, red, and beige. According to the internet, these indicators are basically a manual on how to handle your partner, but what happens when they go off script? Our generation is currently going through an epidemic of self-labeling, such as having to know if you’re a golden retriever or a black cat partner, figuring out what your love language is, and being aware of which attachment styles you possess.
When it comes to a relationship status, I do agree that knowing where you stand and needing a label is important, but when it comes to individuals—this is definitely not needed. Why are we letting our actions and personality be categorized? Whatever happened to living life and loving with freedom?
Rewriting the rules together
With the amount of media we consume on our phones, we often forget that social media only shows the good parts of our relationships—and that there are ugly times, too. There are no manuals for relationships or a set of green and red flags to watch out for. It’s different for everyone; love is immeasurable and unbound, and doesn’t come in just one shape. But one thing’s for sure, love is never perfect. Nothing is, really. There is always a flaw, one that may be ugly, but one that we’ll eventually find beautiful.
On my birthday, I received a bouquet of pink roses from a genuine and loving heart. It didn’t come from someone who simply chose the closest arrangement available. It came from a man who thought of me when he saw pink flowers—someone who went out of his way, even through the rain, to get me something he knew would make me smile. This was a reminder of his pure love.
Love is a compromise—one that grows into what we want it to be through mutual effort in a relationship, a feeling worth bending our preferences for. From the smallest choices to the most difficult decisions, love has a way of making things feel easier. And to that, I say: Let’s stop caring about what others have to say about our own relationships.
Today, on Valentine’s Day, let us not only celebrate the beautiful parts of love, but also its ugly sides.
I may not have received a bouquet of lotus and ranunculus, but I learned to see the beauty in something I once saw no value in.
