Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, presumably one of the most dreaded days of the year. Lovers are panic-buying bunches of flowers and cards; and heart-shaped toys are shoved into the faces of (happy) singletons. I think it's safe to bet that every restaurant will be fully booked for the evening.

For years, I didn't bother with Valentine's Day. The few boyfriends I had either broke up just before, or I met them just after the 14th February. This year, I am in a relationship, but still, I am not that bothered about flowers or cards. To me, Valentine's Day is like any other day. It's much too commercial for my liking.

I think that Valentine's Day is a synonym for "Florists-of-the-world-united-and-decided-to-sell-more-flowers Day", which, in effect, it is. Card writers, restaurant-owners and heart-shaped toy and teddy manufacturers just jumped on the band-waggon.

Why do people seem to think that February 14th is the only day in the year that you can tell your boyfriend/girlfriend that you love him/her? Is a candle-light dinner surrounded by a handful of more or less happy couples that different from a candle-light dinner any other day? Isn't it the thought that counts?

I've got a date suggestion: 18th June. Who had the idea of putting Valentine's Day into the most depressing month of the year anyway? At least in June it would be warm enough for picnics and outdoor activities... See, I'm a summer child through and through. Besides, my favourite flowers are not even in bloom yet. Not that I care a lot about getting flowers. I mean, it's a nice gesture, but I seem to have a black thumb. I've managed to kill every flower ever given to me in record-time, and that included several cacti. Plastic ones would probably be a safer bet.

And candle-light dinners? Yes, they are quite romantic, but I for one feel uncomfortable when people spend a lot of money just to take me out. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy going on dates and being taken to nice restaurants, but I'd be just as happy to go and get fish 'n' chips. I'd rather sit on the couch with a self-cooked meal or take-away, curl up and watch a film and not be asked by a waiter, whether everything's alright every two minutes.