Americans will spend a record-breaking $29.1 billion on Valentine’s Day this year. At the same time, 62% of young people report feeling little to no pressure to spend anything at all on the holiday. Both of these things are somehow true simultaneously, revealing a massive disconnect between what we claim about Valentine’s Day and what we actually do.
The numbers tell a story of a holiday fragmenting in real time. While couples drop an average of $199.78 per person celebrating, 27% of consumers have already bought Valentine’s gifts for themselves. More people are buying presents for their pets than ever before — 35% plan to spend $2.1 billion on their dogs and cats this year. Meanwhile, 62% of millennials flat-out call Valentine’s Day “overrated.”
$29B Spending vs. 62% Who Don’t Care
Here’s where it gets weird. The same generation dismissing Valentine’s as commercialized nonsense is outspending everyone else. Gen Z consumers plan to drop $208 on average for Valentine’s Day — more than millennials, who average $200. Nearly half of Gen Z singles feel pressure to plan expensive dates, even while claiming they’d “rather be doing anything else” than celebrating the holiday.
The contradiction makes sense once you understand what’s actually happening. Valentine’s Day hasn’t died. It’s splintered into about seven different holidays happening on the same date. There’s traditional romantic Valentine’s. There’s Galentine’s Day for friends. There’s self-care Valentine’s where you buy yourself flowers and expensive chocolate. There’s pet Valentine’s. There’s anti-Valentine’s parties. Some people are spending the evening at home with their kids, avoiding restaurants entirely. Others are treating it like a second Thanksgiving, buying gifts for parents and siblings.
Half of Gen Z Bought Gifts for Themselves
The self-gifting trend reveals something fascinating about how people are reframing the holiday. Among Gen Z specifically, 55% bought themselves Valentine’s gifts — more than half the generation is celebrating themselves. It’s not sad or desperate. It’s strategic reinterpretation of a holiday that used to make single people feel terrible. If everyone’s supposed to receive love on Valentine’s Day, why exclude yourself?
This shift mirrors broader changes in how younger generations approach romance entirely. Gen Z is abandoning dating apps — the top four platforms saw declining usage in 2023. They’re having dramatically less casual sex than millennials did at the same age. A recent survey found only 23% of 18-27 year olds said their friends commonly had one-night stands, compared to 78% of millennials two decades ago. More than half of Gen Z reports craving media centered around platonic connections rather than romantic relationships.
Friends and Coworkers Overtaking Romance
The data backs this up. A record 32% of consumers plan to buy Valentine’s gifts for friends this year, and 19% for coworkers. That’s not people broadening their gift-giving — that’s people fundamentally redefining what the holiday means. Millennial parents are embracing this too, with 38% buying Valentine’s gifts for their kids. The holiday is becoming less about romance and more about marking mid-February with gestures toward anyone you appreciate.
There’s also a cynicism creeping in that older generations recognize immediately. Millennial moms describe Valentine’s as a “Hallmark holiday” and use words like “ignore, avoid, stressful, and fuss” significantly more than Gen Z when discussing the day. They remember when Valentine’s Day felt obligatory and performative. Many would rather put money toward practical household improvements than flowers that die in three days.
Gen Z Uses “Lonely” 17.5x More Often
But here’s the uncomfortable part that gets buried in all the self-care messaging and Galentine’s parties: Gen Z is 17.5 times more likely to use the word “lonely” when discussing Valentine’s Day compared to millennials. The holiday still stings for people who want romantic connection and don’t have it. All the reframing in the world doesn’t eliminate that ache entirely. Twenty-eight percent plan anti-Valentine’s celebrations with friends, which sounds fun until you realize it’s a specific response to feeling excluded from the traditional version of the holiday.
The question isn’t whether Valentine’s Day is dying. It’s whether a holiday can survive when nobody agrees what it’s for anymore. Is it romantic love? Platonic appreciation? Self-care? Pet pampering? A commercial obligation? An excuse to ignore winter’s bleakness with heart-shaped cookies? The answer, apparently, is yes to all of it — which might be the most honest thing about Valentine’s Day in 2026. We’ve stopped pretending there’s one correct way to spend February 14th, and the $29 billion we’re collectively spending suggests we’re fine with the chaos.
