Love it or loathe it, you ignore Valentine's Day, with all its trappings of hearts, flowers and cards, at your peril. But with twentysomething women leading the anti-romance brigade, what is a man to do? Start by reading this article . . .
Valentine's Day is the most emotional of the year, next to Christmas. Men and women may say that it's nothing but a commercialised snog-fest promoted by sellers of cards, flowers, risqué underwear, chocolate body paint and plush animals with hearts that say Luv U. Underneath, though, it really does matter when there's no red heart coming your way, no lame poetry, no roses, no romantic meal. You hate yourself for wanting something you can't have. In this bleak February mood, pictures of the canoodling Cruise and Cruz are bound to make you gag, especially when you consider that the true heroine of the story - Nicole Kidman - was left with no explanations and two children.
What's even more depressing is that an entire generation of twentysomething women seem to have given up on romance altogether - not just for Valentine's Day - and they're leading the anti-romance brigade. Hollywood may churn up a romantic tale occasionally, but in real life nobody's going to stake a bet on fairy tales coming true.
Twentysomething men, many of whom still dream of romance, are lost for ways to break the icy self-sufficiency of their female peers who no longer need men to achieve the lifestyle to which they aspire. Where does that leave the men?
James (26), an advertising executive and a handsome Seinfeld type, believes in romance but doesn't dare show his feelings. "I'm afraid to be romantic. I don't want to freak a girl out," he says. He broke up with the love of his life seven months ago after "careers got in the way" and finds himself lonely, because he's "not into casual dating". He's a "shy, bookish, Cavan man" and finds it hard to deal with the scene in Dublin, where appearance and money count for too much.
"Valentine's Day will be quite painful," he confides, "Working in advertising I've spent the past month making bullshit commercials. Big businesses are the only ones that do well out of it."
He might have a soulmate in Gillian (20), a pretty, long-legged law student, who also hates Valentine's Day. "Not looking forward to it at all. I wish it didn't exist," she says.
She and her girl friends have given up on men because "you can't trust them". Men only want one thing, in Gillian's and her friends' experience, so they've decided to focus on more important things such as education and careers. When they want to have a good time, they go out together as a group of girls.
This trend of twentysomething women who are unwilling to put up with what they see as men's failings is the theme of a new US book, The Starter Marriage and the Future of Matrimony, by Pamela Paul. Young women are walking out of marriage without a backward glance when the union fails to live up to their unrealistic expectations. Two-thirds of divorce proceedings are started by women and fewer than half of women who marry will still be married five years' later. Economically independent and emotionally resourceful, these young women don't need men in order to feel secure, to have their intimacy needs met or even, indeed, to feel sexually satisfied.
So what's a romantic man to do? Eoin O'Donnell (23), a six-foot university student, with blond hair down to his shoulders and striking blue eyes, wants to believe in romance. He's the type that will turn up at his girlfriend's house unexpectedly with a bunch of flowers (ahhh . . .). But he believes men's masculinity has been undermined by the fact that a magnanimous gesture with the wallet is no long regarded as romantic because women no longer need men economically.
"In the past, a romantic gesture would have been to pay for a woman's evening out, her taxi home and a box of chocolates. These days, the woman is as likely to be paying for the man's drinks; she has her own car, earns more money than he does and if she wants chocolates, she buys them for herself. Buying chocolates for a woman is a minor insult," he adds.
While O'Donnell blames equality for killing romance, Karen Murray (23) blames the media.
"There's no such thing as romance any more," says Karen, a stunning-looking beauty therapist. "I totally blame the multitude of soft porn sexual images that are constantly in your face. I think it's sick. There are no boundaries, morals or values any more - just naked bodies. Everything relates to sex. The media tells us the way to look, how to live, it promotes promiscuity and multiple partners."
Karen, who has been with the same boyfriend for five years, has given up on going to clubs and pubs because the "unbelievable" behaviour of her female peers makes her feel "physically sick".
"Girls are wearing next to nothing, because MTV tells them that this looks good; they're getting drunk and going off with guys for one-night stands. In this atmosphere, a guy looks at a girl and thinks, 'I'd love to get into bed with her'. The last thing he is thinking is 'I want to woo her romantically'."
Mammon, greed, gluttony and sexual exhibitionism are not romantic - not to the current generation (or past generations, come to think of it). So who dares to believe in the fairy tale?
Helen Early (26), a six-foot redheaded freelance researcher, still believes that she will meet the ultimate romantic mate - "somebody that makes you tingle all over". She admits to being "old-fashioned". "I have high expectations, but I also know that a good relationship is something you work towards. The 20s are a time to chill-out, take time and experiment, but ultimately you do want to meet the right person and you want the sparkle of romance. It isn't cool to say you want to get married and have kids, but beneath it all I think that's what most women really want."
Sinéad Gleeson (27), a Sinéad O'Connor lookalike who works as a researcher on RTÉ's Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, was once a typical twentysomething, who didn't believe she could be old-fashioned enough to be romantic. "People think romance is cheesy and conventional," she says. Deep down, she wanted romance, flowers, true love, a church wedding - the whole leaves-you-breathless package. But she didn't dare admit it to herself - and most women are the same, she says.
Everything changed for Sinéad when she was swept off her feet 18 months ago by a man she had fancied from afar for years. It was complicated (as the most intense romances always are) by the fact that the man she fancied was her boyfriend's best friend, Stephen - the two shared a flat. When Sinéad and her boyfriend broke up, in that ramshackle "we're still friends" way relationships do these days, Sinéad was afraid to approach the man she truly loved for fear of hurting her ex-boyfriend's feelings. But one night at a party, Sinéad found herself talking seven hours straight with the object of her unrequited love. Stephen admitted that he loved her as well, but hadn't wanted to steal his best friend's girl, even though they had broken up. By the end of the night, the couple were so in love that they knew, in their hearts, that marriage was inevitable. They discussed telling the ex-boyfriend/best friend the truth, but never had a chance to talk to him. Within two days, he had died in an accident.
"We had to deal with the greatest joy we had ever had in our lives, then with the most grief we had ever experienced. Through it all, we stayed together and it made us strong," says Sinéad.
SINÉAD and Stephen, a music producer and DJ who has composed songs for Sinéad, are planning to marry in May in the pale blue wooden church in Kilternan, Co Dublin, "the most romantic church in Ireland". Being in love in that romantic way is a risk, Sinéad admits, but adds, "I'd rather be single than be complacent".
Complacency is a protective device in an age when many relationships are more transactional than romantic, says Eivlin (25). "People are into other people for what they can get outof it. Most women are not romantics and most men accept this. If you are romantic, you are much less likely to have your feelings reciprocated. To be romantic is to open yourself up to more hurt than you can take, personally."
There is some anecdotal evidence, however, that people mellow in their 30s and become more willing to risk commitment.
Greg Prendergast (35) is a stand-up comic who uses a lot of material about male-female relationships in his scripts. "I'm not a romantic - at least, if that means chocolates and flowers, definitely not," he says. For Prendergast, being romantic is spending an "evening in" alone with his live-in girlfriend of three years, going for a walk with her or just "having a laugh". Being with your beloved to the exclusion of everyone else is a statement in itself, he believes.
He's not into grand gestures. "Romance is overblown at this stage. If you send your girlfriend flowers, it's because you're in big trouble and want to get out of it."
A true romantic gesture costs nothing, but has a lot of thought put into it, says Greg. Love notes under the pillow, buying a book you heard your girlfriend mention - that's romance.
"Living together is the true test of friendship, companionship and love," he says. He won't talk about marriage. "Maybe I'm waiting to be asked . . . I'm afraid to ask," he admits. Perhaps, as with many thirtysomethings, the biological clock will kick in and settle matters.
In the late 30s and 40s, romance becomes an entirely different thing. The nesting of the early to mid-30s - where just being together under one roof is a thrill - gives way to the practicalities of child-rearing mid-30s to mid-40s. Ask men and women in this group about romance and you're bound to get a confused stare. They have to search their memories, although some are lucky enough to enjoy romantic moments with their spouses.
"For me, it's when my husband plans a surprise meal or a trip away without me having to do anything. I plan everything, so when he does it, it's a real treat," says Blathnaid, a mother of four.
This can backfire. "There's nothing worse than being whisked off to some bizarre hotel where you're supposed to have sex - it's appalling," says Olwen, a thirtysomething mother of three.
If daring to be romantic in the 20s is touchy, it's even touchier in the 30s and 40s. The only thing worse than someone trying too hard (buying you flowers you hate and lingerie that wouldn't fit the cat) is someone not trying at all. As for the 50s - the grand gestures need to be grand. Otherwise, you'd better mean it when you look in your beloved's eyes and say: "The past 30 years would have been nothing without you."
While we don't like to admit it, Valentine's Day is the litmus test of a committed relationship. Will the surprise be special or hackneyed? Predictable or treasured? It's up to you. Pretend, at your peril, that it's not important.
Moments of love through the ages
Teens . . . falling in love
Your first kiss
Holding hands
Huge Valentine's cards and furry animals
A single rose
Txt-msging 24 hrs a day
Meeting the parents . . . and they like you
Giving each other freedom to have own friends
Ideal Valentine message: Whazzup?
20s . . . cynical but hopeful
Talking all night without making a pass
Realising you have everything in common
Cooking a candlelit dinner
Buying your beloved a book that he/she mentioned in passing
Leaving love-notes under the pillow
Phoning the next day and saying "you were wonderful" rather than "I hope you were using protection"
Impulsively bringing flowers to her house without any reason
Buying the CD you know he was looking for
Writing a song for your beloved (only if you're musical)
Ideal Valentine message: Would you let me fall in love with you?
30s . . . nest-making
Setting up house together
Dancing at other people's weddings
Staying in with a movie and a takeaway
Handing over the TV remote control
Making an effort to dress up nicely for an evening out
Deciding to have a baby but having sex even though you're not ovulating
Visiting the obstetrician together
A night's sleep
Holding hands
Bothering to keep up a grooming regime (shaving, waxing, etc.)
Flirting at chance meetings, but not in a sleazy way
Ideal Valentine message: We're pregnant!
40s . . . midlife crisis
First love from 20 years ago calls/ e-mails and admits he/she still loves you
Somebody dedicates a book to you
Meeting a soulmate on business and sharing long, intimate conversations without doing anything about it
A weekend without the children
Going back to bed (together) after the school run
Talking empathetically with your partner, who remembers all your special moments together
Visiting a romantic city à deux -and you didn't have to plan it yourself
He loves your floppy tummy and you love his bald head
Ideal Valentine message: original love poetry texted to mobile phone
50s . . . settling for more
Time - lots of it - generously given and reciprocated
Falling in love like a teenager when you thought it would never happen again
A week together in the Caribbean
Laughing at each other's jokes
Serious jewellery (no semi-precious stones)
Surprise dinner in outrageously expensive restaurant
He/she saying you look gorgeous first thing in the morning
Having a snog when nobody's looking
Ideal Valentine message: We've bought the house in Italy/south of France/Co Kerry
60s-plus
If you're still romantic, you're a pro.
You should have written this article
