Here's what I expect, if I ever find myself a significant other, on Valentine's day: nothing.
I don't need a socially designated day of "love" to celebrate my relationships. I don't want a relationship which ups and downs are dictated by commercialised traditions which origins have nothing to do with their current meaning. I don't need a love that needs to be reminded annually that it exists.
If I ever fall in love with someone, I wish that they will understand that I don't need to celebrate this day because every day that our relationship still persists is a celebration in and of itself. If either of us wanted to commemorate our love, any day of the year would work as well as, if not better than (owing to the fact that I know for certain it has nothing to do with an obligation to act more like a couple on this arbitrarily determined day of love every year), Valentine's day.
If it so happens that one such day that we feel like enjoying each other's company is the 14th, then so be it. However, if it is because of the 14th that our relationship is suddenly treated with so much more reverence, then clearly we have different opinions and priorities.
The eve of Valentine's day, however, is a different matter altogether, given that it is the anniversary of the day of my birth. I would not be opposed at all to celebrating my existence, celebrating the fact that my parents loved each other enough to have me, loved me enough to raise me, that I may meet whoever it is who will (ideally but not realistically) complete me.
On the 13th, there will be no influx of couples giddy on manufactured love. My birthday will be full of other people's anticipation and my own fulfillment. It will be MY day to celebrate. A day for 1/365 of the world's 7 billion people to celebrate, not 1/2 of the same 7 billion.
