Between the chocolate bunnies and massive easter eggs that have popped up in stores the day after Christmas, a flood of pink is looming. Hearts, flowers, cheesy quotes. Ads demanding that you get your partner some chocolates, flowers, a card, balloons, a larger gift. Why not go all the way and book a short romantic getaway? Don’t forget to book a restaurant table in time!

The sarcasm probably creates the impression that I am a romance-hater, that I’m bitter or something. But that’s not actually the case. I live for small gestures of affection, whether they are romantically or platonically motivated. But as someone who identifies as asexual and somewhere on the aromantic spectrum, I struggle with our culture’s idea that single must equal sad and lonely, that I can only find fulfilment in a romantic or sexual relationship. Add to this with the constant questions from family and parents’ friends about whether I have a boyfriend, and Valentine’s Day is just too much.

Even before I realised I was asexual, I was never a fan of that day – why make such a big thing out of it? Shouldn’t you show your care and love for each other every day? Since realising I’m asexual, these feelings have become more intense. While I’ve joked with friends about how ‘sad’ it is that we don’t have a Valentine’s date, in reality I’m still single because relationships as most people understand them are not for me.

I’m comfortable with my identity and live a generally happy life, but now and again when I’m reminded of my singleness, and see how oh-so-happy people are in relationships, a sadness creeps over me. The romance and sexual relationship imperative is everywhere. Subtly, in the subtext of advertising, or more directly when people insist that you just haven’t met the right person. In German, my native language, we even have a proverb, which translates to: “Every pot has a lid.”