Right. It's Valentine's Day and while we don't care, obviously, it is about now that our thoughts turn to whether romance is alive in our relationship, or rigor mortis has set in.
We do want romance but it's a tricky one to get right, volume-wise and, above all, tonally.
Most of the romantic gestures we're supposed to crave, we really don't. No woman, excepting a Kardashian or Love Island contestant, wants any truck with rose petals, chocolates, anything heart shaped, anything quilted, anything, God forbid, to do with underwear.
We don't want the supermarket-bought Valentine's deal dinner for two, served by candlelight in the kitchen, or, for that matter, dinner on a sandbar in an exotic location. (We once had dinner on a sandbar and it was strangely depressing, like being stuck in a promotional video for a luxury retirement home.)
What we want is romantic behaviour, spread out throughout the year, that is not asked for or expected or that frequent (once a month will do, too much romance makes us feel suffocated). We don't want it to involve flowers (some people may like to be bought flowers, we say you should buy your own if they don't want white crysanths) or spas, or bubble baths, or destinations, or special dinners (we like dinners but we tend to want to have a wine fuelled debate…so).