While driving my daughter to school the other day, we have a chat about Valentine’s Day. They’ve been talking about this ‘feast of love’ at school, she declares.

Just celebrate whatever makes us tick, and most importantly, makes us laugh- Kristina Chetcuti

Within minutes, from the back of the car, I am regaled with an interminable list of all the people she loves, followed by another long list of all the animals she loves – including the resident lizard in our yard. Then she concludes with an: “And I love telly, of course.”

I ignore the television hint and tell her that, in fact, I might be writing about love this week. She pipes: “OK, as long as you write that I don’t want to have a boyfriend, ever.”

Why not, I ask? “Because we’d have to sing soppy songs to each other and...” – a pause for effect here – “...we’d have to stop and wait for our eyes to turn into shapes of hearts. I don’t want that. I like my eyes almond-shaped.” As you might have figured they are also doing shapes at school.

Then she launches into a more detailed explanation: she doesn’t have a boyfriend, but, she tells, she has “most-est favourite friend”. It happens to be the son of my friend Pete.

He is her favourite, she says, because he is her same age, and they are of exactly the same height (clearly I’ve failed: somehow I must have passed on my height issues to her). Most importantly, she says, he is her special friend because he is the funniest. “He makes me laugh all the time.”

In fact, she starts giggling even as she recalls some of the mischief they are always up to when they meet.

I have no doubt that in 10 years’ time she won’t be minding the ‘soppy stuff’ so, just to be on the safe side, on my drive back home, I’m already on the phone with Pete: “If your son ever breaks my daughter’s heart…” (I am waving an imaginary wooden spoon, to raucous laughter from the other end of the line.)

However, the truth is that for a five-year-old, my daughter came up with a very apt observation: We should treasure people who cheer us up, people in whose company our spirits are lifted through lightness and laughter.

I realise now that my closest friends – men and girlfriends – all have one thing in common: they all are witty and can see the funny in the tragic.

So this is what we should be celebrating, this week: love and laughter.

Forget Valentine’s Day and all its commercial gag-inducing uncreative events. This force-feeding of romance is exerting to too much pressure on love. We feel that unless ours emulates the movie world, then there is something not quite right. And consequently, the sense of fun is being lost.

I once had a boyfriend who would only engage in love scenes reminiscent of cinematic moments: to quote my own daughter, eyes had to be heart-shaped before the kiss and the swoon. No jokes allowed, no unchoreographed fumbles, and certainly no cracking of jokes – everything had to be image perfect. Even thinking about it now makes me tired.

Compare this with a girlfriend’s story. She was sharing a tender moment with her new boyfriend when she sneezed, and inadvertedly, ahem, let loose some wind. She panicked and kept thinking: did he hear that?

But he just kept staring at her lovingly in the eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Then he said: “Interesting.” “What is?” She asked, thinking he was going to say something romantic from ‘the look’ he was giving her. “That when you sneeze, you fart.” They spent the whole afternoon laughing about it.

We cannot censor laughter out of love. I once dated a guy who told me, in no uncertain terms: “It takes a lot to make me laugh. You might make me smile, but only a handful of people can make me belly-laugh.”

That was the greatest turn-off in the history of the universe. (I know, I have a tendency to lure out all the bores of their bore-holes).

It seems to me we just want to fast-forward to the heavy stuff. A male friend of mine told me that after the third date, girls tell him: “I want to have your babies”. I don’t blame him that he freaks out.

Whatever happened to good old fun? Love does not just mean the romantic sort. It is bigger and better and more various than that.

So come this absurd day on Tuesday, we should just celebrate love in general: family, dogs, garden, lizards – whatever makes us tick, and most importantly, makes us laugh.

There is no need to hug the television set though.

krischetcuti@gmail.com

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