By Goodness Iwezua
In Nigeria, Valentine’s Day is not just a date on the calendar. It’s a test.
A test of love.
A test of effort.
A test of whether your man understands the assignment.
From late January, my Instagram and TikTok were already red. Surprise hotel room setups. Rose petals on white sheets. Money bouquets fanned out like wedding aso-ebi. Girls screaming while their boyfriends blindfolded them into decorated apartments in Lekki.
I won’t lie — I love that stuff.
I believe your partner’s background and mindset matter, especially during special celebrations.
Valentine’s Day, to me, is not just another day. It’s intentional. It’s symbolic. It’s a chance to say, “You are special to me.”
And I wanted to feel special.
Weeks before February 14, I started dropping hints. Not aggressively. Just softly.
I would send him videos like, “Aww this is so cute.”
Or, “Imagine this kind of surprise.”
Or, “See this money bouquet, I would just faint.”
I thought I was being clear without being demanding.
In my head, I had already pictured it. Dressing up. Blushing. Taking soft pictures. Feeling like that baby girl in her feminine era. The kind of Valentine that makes you post one picture and log out because you’re satisfied.
But my fiance doesn’t think like that.
To him, love is random and steady. Sending lunch to the office on a stressful Tuesday. Showing up when my phone spoils. Calling to pray with me before a job interview.
He believes love should be consistent all year, not concentrated on one day because of social media pressure.
And honestly? I understood his point.
But still… Valentine is Valentine.
When February 14 came, I woke up excited. My heart was racing a little. I checked my phone first thing.
Nothing.
No delivery rider calling.
No “check your gate.”
No surprise credit alert.
Just a long, sweet WhatsApp message telling me how much he loved me — and a reminder that we had reservations at our usual hangout spot.
Our usual spot.
Not some new rooftop restaurant in Victoria Island. Not somewhere fancy. Just the same place we always go.
As the day went on and my friends started posting flowers, chocolate boxes, spa bookings and surprise dinners, my chest started tightening.
By evening, I cried.
Not dramatic sobbing. Just quiet tears.
For the first time, I felt lonely inside my relationship. I started asking myself uncomfortable questions.
Am I asking for too much?
Is this how “struggling but loyal girlfriend” stories begin?
Is love alone really enough?
Still, I dressed up and went out with him. A stone in hand is better than none, right?
He was happy to see me. He complimented my dress. We ate. We laughed. He held my hand across the table. Everything looked fine on the outside.
But inside, I was comparing.
Comparing my regular dinner to somebody else’s decorated suite. Comparing my WhatsApp message to somebody else’s public surprise. Comparing quiet love to loud romance.
I had already accepted that this Valentine just wasn’t my year.
Then, as we were about to leave, he brought out a bag.
It wasn’t fancy. No red wrapping paper. No dramatic speech.
Inside were the exact things I had mentioned weeks ago.
I recently started a new job, and settling in hasn’t been easy. There were important items I needed to get to be fully comfortable — things I complained about casually one evening. I didn’t even repeat it. I just mentioned it in passing.
He listened.
He remembered.
He bought all of them.
I just stood there looking into the bag. My throat tightened again — but this time for a different reason.
Because while I was busy dreaming about roses and surprises, he was paying attention to what would actually make my life easier.
Driving home, I kept thinking.
Maybe the loudest love isn’t always the deepest.
Maybe some men don’t perform love. They practice it.
But here’s where it gets complicated.
Is it wrong to still want both?
To want the practical support and the soft surprise?
To want to feel seen privately and celebrated publicly?
To want flowers even if you also got something useful?
In Nigeria today, where money is tight and expectations are loud, Valentine has become a scoreboard. Social media makes everything look bigger than it is. And sometimes, we forget that relationships are not content.
That night, as I arranged those work items in my room, I felt grateful. Truly grateful. He may not have given me a money bouquet, but he gave me something thoughtful.
Still, a tiny part of me wondered what it would have felt like to walk into a room full of roses just once.
So now I’m asking you:
When it comes to love — especially on Valentine’s Day — what truly matters more?
The big gesture that makes you feel like the only girl in the world for one day…
Or the quiet love that prepares you for the rest of your life?
If you had to choose, which one are you choosing?
*Another exclusive by People&Politics, this story is a true life story -like the one published in the morning and headlined ‘What Valentine’s Day Did To Me’.
They’re all part of our sumptuous offering to millions of our dear readers across the world .
Enjoy your Valentine’s Day please 🍷❤️.
— Editor.
