So, is it now an obligation to follow a set of rituals? The red roses, the box of chocolate, all that stuff – where is the real romance I wonder? Is there as much excitement in unwrapping the cellophane from a box of chocolates as there is in the hot flushed kiss of your ‘true’ love. I don’t think so. I can’t help but feel it’s become so commercialised. Of course I relent, and derive a spark of enthusiasm, pleasure and excitement at hearing the response to the secretly delivered box of roses and chockies. I imagine her running her fingers over soft rose petals as if she’s rubbing her fingers over my flushed cheeks, gentle, loving and caring.

Perhaps the flowers sitting in a vase over the sink will speak to her in some way saying my name, reminding her of me. If only there wasn’t this distance it would be the two of us booked into a fancy restaurant looking across a muted yellow candle flame, catching up on what’s been happening in our day- now why do I find that interesting? I often wonder what it is about her that happens with no other – but it does, and I guess that’s love – I don’t really know what it is – it’s more than just a feeling it’s an action and a reaction. It’s living and breathing and for some reason it all seems to come to a mountain peak on Valentine’s Day. Declarations of adoration in cooing dove voices and future choices about homes and children. Hmmmm I wonder what happens around November 14 every year – are there proportionally more babies? Back at home, the melting chocolate reminds me of her lips… I think I’ll have a cherry one next…..