The day dreaded by most men is coming. Almost as much as “Honey, my period’s late.”

Yup, February 14th. The day when roses cost more than crack cocaine. Pity the poor soul who forgets to buy flowers until that very day. He’s better be prepared to part with a significant part of his paycheck.

Legend has it that this day came to be to commemorate St. Valentine, who saved masses of men who forgot their wive’s birthdays after a night out with their buddies at the pub, by sending them flowers and cards in their husbands’ names. His family still owns the Hallmark company, I hear.

Personally, I was never one for flowers or chocolates on Valentine’s Day. If someone was to spend that amount of moo-lah on me, I’d rather she get me a chocolate-coloured Ipod, or Garmin GPS navigation system (ladies, still not too late. I arrive at KLIA on the 12th). I kinda just see roses on Feb 14th as money with a life-expectancy of a week. But that’s just me.

Flowers seem to have this effect on the fairer sex. You can sometimes even get away with bloody murder if you wrap a boxful of expensive Victoria’s Secret in colourful scented paper, and throw in a few longstems (digression: is lingerie a present for the girl, or really, for the guy?). I’d like to meet a girl who’d prefer a Palm T/X to flowers.

And what’s the deal with the chocolates anyway? I mean, yea, chocs are nice, but it seems like a bit of a paradox when one happily pops in a half-dozen Belgians one minute, and then, ask her partner, “Honey, do you think I look fat in this?”. Now, that’s a question from hell, really. There’s no really correct answer for something like that, because whatever you say, it’ll backfire.

• “No, you don’t look fat in that…” (she’ll think you’re saying she looked fat in something else)
• “I love you no matter how you look…” (she’ll think you’re saying she’s fat)
• “No, you’re just perfect…” (she’ll think you’re lying)
• Never, no matter how strong the temptation, ever say, “You WILL BE, if you continue inhaling those calorie-laden chocolates.”

A friend of mine did that once. Bless his soul; at least she left us some recognizable body parts to bury.

A tip I read in a book: Inhale deeply, make a slight head-tilt, slowly exhale as you’re breaking into a smile and mumble something that sounds like a compliment. Do this right, and you might live to see another day.

But, seeing how we males are under the total control of our female counterparts, this practice shall go on. Damn that guy who makes the rest of us look bad by giving his girlfriend 999 roses.