Happy Girlfriend Day, Really.
The best brands aren't the cheapest or fastest, they're the ones that do something they didn't have to. Turns out love runs on the same logic. This piece uses costly signalling to argue that flowers, notes, and irrational little gestures are terrible investments and honest proof and asks what happens to genuine thoughtfulness when AI learns to fake it convincingly.
3 min read
Today is Girlfriend Day (August 1)
Which means florists are smiling, hopefully restaurants are overbooked, WhatsApp is working overtime, and somewhere, thousands of men are desperately searching for "last-minute thoughtful gift ideas."
Predictably, there will also be another familiar chorus.
"It's all become too commercial."
"Why do we need one day to celebrate love?"
"If you really care, you shouldn't need a reminder."
Maybe.
But I think they're missing the point. After all, flowers are a terrible investment. They bloom for a few days, wilt quietly, and end up in the bin. Chocolates disappear in an evening. Dinner becomes a credit card statement by tomorrow morning.
If love were presented to an investment committee, half the rituals we treasure would be rejected for having terrible ROI. Which is precisely why they matter.
Behavioural economists call this costly signalling.
The things we value most are often those that make the least economic sense. Not because of what they achieve. But because of what they reveal.
The purpose of a gift isn't to transfer value. It's to create evidence that someone was thinking about you before they needed to.
Suddenly, flowers aren't flowers anymore.
They're evidence.
Flowers don't really say, "I love you."
They quietly say,
"You crossed my mind before you crossed my path today."
A handwritten note says, "You were worth more than a copy-paste message."
Driving across the city for a ten-minute coffee says something no spreadsheet will ever understand.
None of these gestures are necessary. They're beautifully unnecessary. And perhaps that's what every meaningful relationship is built upon. Not dramatic declarations. Not expensive surprises.
But dozens of tiny, voluntary decisions that no one demanded…..
Waiting until she's inside before driving away.
Remembering how she takes her coffee.
Sending a photograph simply because it reminded you of her.
Walking on the traffic side of the pavement without ever discussing why.
Buying her favourite chocolate on an ordinary Tuesday instead of Valentine's Day.
The fascinating thing about these moments is that their value doesn't come from the act itself.
It comes from the fact that you didn't have to do it.
The strongest relationships aren't measured by obligation.
They're revealed by voluntary effort.
Which makes me wonder about the world we're rapidly walking into.
Technology will remind us about anniversaries before we remember them ourselves. It will recommend the perfect restaurant, suggest the ideal gift, write heartfelt messages, and perhaps even predict the best moment to send them. None of that is a bad thing.
In fact, it's wonderfully useful. But here's the paradox.
The easier it becomes to appear thoughtful...
...the more valuable genuine thoughtfulness becomes.
Because there's an enormous difference between remembering because an app reminded you...
...and remembering because a random conversation from four months ago quietly stayed with you.
One is memory. The other is meaning. Perhaps that's the real luxury of the future.
Not intelligence.
Not information.
Not even time.
But the ability to make another human being feel that they occupied your mind even when they weren't asking for your attention.
Curiously, this isn't just true for relationships….
It's true for friendships.
For parenting.
For leadership.
And yes, for brands.
The brands we remember aren't always the fastest, the cheapest or the smartest. They're the ones that occasionally do something they didn't have to do.
They surprise us.
They understand us.
They make us feel less like a customer and more like a person.
Relationships work exactly the same way. Maybe that's why the most meaningful things in life have always looked a little irrational.
Keeping old movie tickets.
Saving voice notes.
Driving forty minutes for coffee.
Buying flowers that will die.
None of it is efficient.
All of it is evidence.
Evidence that, for a brief moment, someone chose to invest not just their money or their time...
...but a small part of their mind.
So yes, buy the flowers.
Write the message.
Book the dinner.
Not because Girlfriend's Day demands it.
But because every once in a while, it's worth making the invisible visible.
In a world that's becoming exceptionally good at generating words, recommendations and reminders, perhaps the rarest gift we can still give another person is beautifully, gloriously human:
The feeling that someone thought of them...
...without needing to be reminded.
Remember, flowers were never the message, they were simply proof that someone was thinking of you long before they rang the doorbell.