Love, Lust, and the Valentine's Economy: How Student Towns Shape Modern Romance
3/25/2025In a bid to restock my stash of junk food and chocolates, I took a walk to the Student Plaza one Wednesday night. It was two days before Valentine’s Day, and I shouldn’t have been surprised to run into a sea of couples, all decked up, photographing each other, and whispering sweet nothings like little else mattered. Ever walked past a couple lost in their own world at SP? Scoffed and rolled your eyes? Well, you shake your head — until it’s your turn.
Walking back to my hostel room, I couldn’t help but think about how there exists a weird, enigmatic quality in Manipal during Valentine’s week. There’s a quiet, unspoken understanding that most of it is fleeting. The romance here isn’t always about grand gestures or forever promises — it’s about the moment, the thrill, and the stories that will be laughed about months later.
But love in Manipal is also a business. The town’s economy — its flower stalls, cafes, and resorts — thrives on students indulging in romantic experiences. As Savitha Ravindra, the lovely florist at Sweet Rose Flower Shop just down Udayavani Road, notes, “The demand is the highest during Valentine’s week.” Yet, not all students are buying into the hype. While some embrace the grand romantic gestures, others scoff at the commercialisation of love, turning to ‘Anti-Valentine’ movements or choosing self-love instead.
To understand this shifting landscape, I spoke with Ananthu Nair, an assistant professor at Christ University Bangalore, whose research focuses on online dating and modern relationships. “There’s a general hesitation to commit, and it’s not just Gen Z,” he explains. “The more relationships you’ve been in, the more risk-averse you become.” This aversion to commitment, combined with financial constraints and social media pressures, shape how students today navigate love.
From romance to rebellion, commercialisation to cynicism, Manipal’s Valentine’s Economy reflects how love evolves in student towns — one February 14th at a time.
College Couple Illustration | Pixbay
The Fleeting Nature of Love in Student Towns
Many people hope to find the love of their lives in college, especially in a place like Manipal. It offers the opportunity to meet individuals from all over the country and beyond. In this environment, there’s no need to hide your dating life from your parents, and love feels like an adventure — unfiltered, unmonitored, and entirely your own. Romance here flourishes in late-night walks, shared plates of momos, and sunsets on the beach. But just as quickly as love begins here, it fades. I’ve noticed that relationships here often come with an unspoken expiration date, with time moving in semesters. Before you know it, it’s almost time to leave. Graduation looms over your head like a dark cloud, and the question of “What happens next?” is one you may choose to ignore– until you can’t.
Relationships in student towns like Manipal exist in a strange limbo — somewhere between deep emotional connection and the knowledge that everything here is temporary. As Shulman and Connolly (2013) argue, young adults are often caught between the desire for intimacy and personal and career growth pressures. “Romantic relationships in emerging adulthood are often fluid, shaped by shifting life plans and the need to balance individual aspirations with commitment” (Shulman & Connolly, 2013).
While some people can embrace the fleeting nature of it all, treating love as an experience rather than a commitment, others struggle to do so, holding on and believing that what starts in Manipal doesn’t have to end here. Because while student-town romances are often short-lived, some, against all odds, do manage to survive.
The Economics of Love: Can Students Afford Romance?
In this economy? I doubt it. Students living on a budget can barely afford their daily expenses, let alone the additional costs of romance — dinner dates, weekend getaways, or elaborate Valentine’s week surprises. These days, love seems to come with a price tag. While some couples are content with handwritten notes and long walks, others feel pressured to meet social expectations. With rising inflation and the increasing cost of living, many students wonder: Is love affordable? Or a luxury?
Standing behind a stall brimming with vibrant roses, Savitha Ravindra — who has been selling flowers in Manipal for over 20 years — recalls how, before the pandemic, students would flock to her shop in large numbers, eager to pick out the perfect bouquet for their partners. However, she has noticed a shift in recent years. “Before COVID, there was even greater demand. Now, it has reduced.”
This decline could be attributed to multiple factors — rising living costs, shifting relationship dynamics, or perhaps the increasing popularity of digital expressions of love over traditional gestures. While flowers remain a staple of Valentine’s celebrations, they are no longer an automatic choice for every student.
Beyond flowers, the entire romance economy has adapted to the financial realities of student life. Budget-friendly dates, group celebrations, and low-cost yet meaningful gifts have become more common. Yet, there remains an undeniable tension between affordable love and the expectations set by social media, marketing, and the commercialisation of romance.
As Nair explains, the hesitation to commit to relationships may also extend to financial investments in romance. “There’s a general hesitation to commit, and it’s not just Gen Z. The more relationships you’ve been in, the more risk-averse you become,” he says. If love is a risk, financial investment in love — buying gifts or planning extravagant dates — becomes a more significant decision.
So, in a town like Manipal, where students carefully budget their meals and transport, is romance just another expense to be managed? Or is true love the kind that thrives in simple, thoughtful gestures rather than extravagant spending?
The Rise of Anti-Valentine Culture
For every couple celebrating Valentine’s Day, there are a dozen people — single people — rolling their eyes and groaning in annoyance. Anti-Valentine culture has gained momentum in recent years, fueled by cynicism, independence, and frustration with the commercial spectacle of love. Friend groups have started coming together on Valentine’s Eve in a grand celebration called ‘Galentine’s’, relaying a message loud and clear: romantic love isn’t the only thing worth celebrating.
Galentine’s Day Illustration | iStock
The rejection of Valentine’s Day is a global phenomenon. In China, Singles’ Day, celebrated on November 11th, started as a university student movement in the 1990s and has since evolved into a billion-dollar event celebrating self-love. Originally meant as an anti-Valentine statement, it has become one of the world’s largest shopping festivals, proving that even resistance to romance can be capitalised upon.
Japan has its own take on reclaiming Valentine’s traditions. Many women reject the cultural norm of gifting chocolates to men and instead buy 'jibun choco' — chocolates for themselves. This change reflects an increasing trend toward self-esteem and a rebellion against conventional gender roles in relationships.
Though these international trends indicate greater societal changes, the sentiment also exists in student cities such as Manipal. The rise of casualisation of relationships — characterised by situationships and talking stages — echoes a greater reluctance towards conventional commitment.
This change of attitude has also seen an increase in ‘Anti-Valentine’ activities, where students explicitly resist the performances of romance. Whether as self-care, platonic festivals, or even ignoring the day in general, most would rather forego the commercialisation of love than partake in its rites.
But is Anti-Valentine’s truly an act of defiance, or is it just another repackaged consumer trend? If Singles’ Day proves anything, it’s that even the resistance to romance can be monetised. Whether one buys into Valentine’s or rejects it entirely, love — or the lack of it — remains a marketable concept.
Scour through any online shopping platform in February, and you’ll see how love has been turned into a multi-billion-dollar industry. From luxury flower arrangements to specially chosen gift boxes, companies take advantage of romance, persuading people that love should be shown in the form of expenditure. Social media just compounds this, nudging couples into ‘proving’ their relationship online with extravaganzas. But do people have to pay for love? Is it still love, or is it something else in the marketplace of emotions?
Like most businesses that rely on Valentine’s passion, the flower trade witnesses a steep price hike. Savitha Ravindra verifies this without doubt: “The prices of flowers skyrocket during Valentine’s Week.” She says that when February 14th is near, wholesalers jack up the prices, pushing local retailers to increase their prices.
For students, that translates to a single rose available for ₹10 on an ordinary day to reach ₹30 or more during the run-up to Valentine’s. The demand exists, and businesses are aware of it. This supply, demand, and clever pricing loop reduces love to an economic exchange — where cost may determine the sincerity of one’s romantic gesture.
But flowers aren’t the only thing marked up in the name of love. From themed restaurant menus to ‘his and hers’ gift boxes, brands tap into the emotional vulnerabilities of young couples. Marketing convinces people that love is incomplete without a tangible (and expensive) declaration of affection.
Ananthu Nair explains how this affects modern relationships: “The commercialisation of love, which is part of the dominant paradigm in our culture, most certainly affects how people romanticise the idea of being in love itself. It sets unrealistic expectations.”
The pressure to match an idealised version of romance curated by social media, films, and corporate marketing creates a disconnect between reality and perception. Not every couple can afford extravagant gifts or aesthetic getaways, but social media makes it seem like they should.
What Does Love Mean for Students Today?
Despite the commercialisation, Savitha insists that the excitement among young couples is still palpable. “They seem very happy and excited and always want to surprise their partners,” she shares with a smile, recalling how some students carefully select their flowers, debating over colours and arrangements.
But in an era where love is simultaneously personal and public — expressed through real-life moments and curated Instagram posts — students navigate relationships cautiously. Nair reflects, “Relationships have always existed at the intersection of public and private life, but in the last few years, there is a disproportionate amount of focus on the public aspect. That’s being used by corporates and social media companies, and I don’t think that’s an overall positive trend for intimate relationships or individual well-being.”
So, what does love mean for students today? Perhaps it’s a careful negotiation between personal desires and public expectations, heartfelt moments and financial realities, cynicism and hope. Whether celebrated with roses or rejected entirely, love in student towns like Manipal is evolving — one February 14th at a time.
LOVE | Freepik
Walking back to my hostel room, I couldn’t help but think about how there exists a weird, enigmatic quality in Manipal during Valentine’s week. There’s a quiet, unspoken understanding that most of it is fleeting. The romance here isn’t always about grand gestures or forever promises — it’s about the moment, the thrill, and the stories that will be laughed about months later.
But love in Manipal is also a business. The town’s economy — its flower stalls, cafes, and resorts — thrives on students indulging in romantic experiences. As Savitha Ravindra, the lovely florist at Sweet Rose Flower Shop just down Udayavani Road, notes, “The demand is the highest during Valentine’s week.” Yet, not all students are buying into the hype. While some embrace the grand romantic gestures, others scoff at the commercialisation of love, turning to ‘Anti-Valentine’ movements or choosing self-love instead.
To understand this shifting landscape, I spoke with Ananthu Nair, an assistant professor at Christ University Bangalore, whose research focuses on online dating and modern relationships. “There’s a general hesitation to commit, and it’s not just Gen Z,” he explains. “The more relationships you’ve been in, the more risk-averse you become.” This aversion to commitment, combined with financial constraints and social media pressures, shape how students today navigate love.
From romance to rebellion, commercialisation to cynicism, Manipal’s Valentine’s Economy reflects how love evolves in student towns — one February 14th at a time.
College Couple Illustration | Pixbay
The Fleeting Nature of Love in Student Towns
Relationships in student towns like Manipal exist in a strange limbo — somewhere between deep emotional connection and the knowledge that everything here is temporary. As Shulman and Connolly (2013) argue, young adults are often caught between the desire for intimacy and personal and career growth pressures. “Romantic relationships in emerging adulthood are often fluid, shaped by shifting life plans and the need to balance individual aspirations with commitment” (Shulman & Connolly, 2013).
While some people can embrace the fleeting nature of it all, treating love as an experience rather than a commitment, others struggle to do so, holding on and believing that what starts in Manipal doesn’t have to end here. Because while student-town romances are often short-lived, some, against all odds, do manage to survive.
The Economics of Love: Can Students Afford Romance?
Standing behind a stall brimming with vibrant roses, Savitha Ravindra — who has been selling flowers in Manipal for over 20 years — recalls how, before the pandemic, students would flock to her shop in large numbers, eager to pick out the perfect bouquet for their partners. However, she has noticed a shift in recent years. “Before COVID, there was even greater demand. Now, it has reduced.”
This decline could be attributed to multiple factors — rising living costs, shifting relationship dynamics, or perhaps the increasing popularity of digital expressions of love over traditional gestures. While flowers remain a staple of Valentine’s celebrations, they are no longer an automatic choice for every student.
Beyond flowers, the entire romance economy has adapted to the financial realities of student life. Budget-friendly dates, group celebrations, and low-cost yet meaningful gifts have become more common. Yet, there remains an undeniable tension between affordable love and the expectations set by social media, marketing, and the commercialisation of romance.
As Nair explains, the hesitation to commit to relationships may also extend to financial investments in romance. “There’s a general hesitation to commit, and it’s not just Gen Z. The more relationships you’ve been in, the more risk-averse you become,” he says. If love is a risk, financial investment in love — buying gifts or planning extravagant dates — becomes a more significant decision.
So, in a town like Manipal, where students carefully budget their meals and transport, is romance just another expense to be managed? Or is true love the kind that thrives in simple, thoughtful gestures rather than extravagant spending?
The Rise of Anti-Valentine Culture
Galentine’s Day Illustration | iStock
The rejection of Valentine’s Day is a global phenomenon. In China, Singles’ Day, celebrated on November 11th, started as a university student movement in the 1990s and has since evolved into a billion-dollar event celebrating self-love. Originally meant as an anti-Valentine statement, it has become one of the world’s largest shopping festivals, proving that even resistance to romance can be capitalised upon.
Japan has its own take on reclaiming Valentine’s traditions. Many women reject the cultural norm of gifting chocolates to men and instead buy 'jibun choco' — chocolates for themselves. This change reflects an increasing trend toward self-esteem and a rebellion against conventional gender roles in relationships.
Though these international trends indicate greater societal changes, the sentiment also exists in student cities such as Manipal. The rise of casualisation of relationships — characterised by situationships and talking stages — echoes a greater reluctance towards conventional commitment.
This change of attitude has also seen an increase in ‘Anti-Valentine’ activities, where students explicitly resist the performances of romance. Whether as self-care, platonic festivals, or even ignoring the day in general, most would rather forego the commercialisation of love than partake in its rites.
But is Anti-Valentine’s truly an act of defiance, or is it just another repackaged consumer trend? If Singles’ Day proves anything, it’s that even the resistance to romance can be monetised. Whether one buys into Valentine’s or rejects it entirely, love — or the lack of it — remains a marketable concept.
Scour through any online shopping platform in February, and you’ll see how love has been turned into a multi-billion-dollar industry. From luxury flower arrangements to specially chosen gift boxes, companies take advantage of romance, persuading people that love should be shown in the form of expenditure. Social media just compounds this, nudging couples into ‘proving’ their relationship online with extravaganzas. But do people have to pay for love? Is it still love, or is it something else in the marketplace of emotions?
Like most businesses that rely on Valentine’s passion, the flower trade witnesses a steep price hike. Savitha Ravindra verifies this without doubt: “The prices of flowers skyrocket during Valentine’s Week.” She says that when February 14th is near, wholesalers jack up the prices, pushing local retailers to increase their prices.
For students, that translates to a single rose available for ₹10 on an ordinary day to reach ₹30 or more during the run-up to Valentine’s. The demand exists, and businesses are aware of it. This supply, demand, and clever pricing loop reduces love to an economic exchange — where cost may determine the sincerity of one’s romantic gesture.
But flowers aren’t the only thing marked up in the name of love. From themed restaurant menus to ‘his and hers’ gift boxes, brands tap into the emotional vulnerabilities of young couples. Marketing convinces people that love is incomplete without a tangible (and expensive) declaration of affection.
Ananthu Nair explains how this affects modern relationships: “The commercialisation of love, which is part of the dominant paradigm in our culture, most certainly affects how people romanticise the idea of being in love itself. It sets unrealistic expectations.”
The pressure to match an idealised version of romance curated by social media, films, and corporate marketing creates a disconnect between reality and perception. Not every couple can afford extravagant gifts or aesthetic getaways, but social media makes it seem like they should.
What Does Love Mean for Students Today?
But in an era where love is simultaneously personal and public — expressed through real-life moments and curated Instagram posts — students navigate relationships cautiously. Nair reflects, “Relationships have always existed at the intersection of public and private life, but in the last few years, there is a disproportionate amount of focus on the public aspect. That’s being used by corporates and social media companies, and I don’t think that’s an overall positive trend for intimate relationships or individual well-being.”
So, what does love mean for students today? Perhaps it’s a careful negotiation between personal desires and public expectations, heartfelt moments and financial realities, cynicism and hope. Whether celebrated with roses or rejected entirely, love in student towns like Manipal is evolving — one February 14th at a time.
LOVE | Freepik
Authors:
Editors:
Misha Jain
LoveValentineManipalCollege