THE last time I observed Valentine's Day, I did it by dumping my then boyfriend.

Yes, call me a heartless b***h, but Feb 14 is just a normal day to me, and as good, or in this case, as bad, as any other for breaking up.

It didn't hurt that we both didn't believe in celebrating what we referred to as 'that pagan holiday', even when we were madly in love.

Now, I'm as much a romantic as any other female. I adore long walks on the beach at sunset and I would never turn down presents of roses, chocolates and other cliched tokens of love.

I draw the line, though, at candlelit dinners. I like to see what I'm eating, and preferably without singeing my eyebrows.

But while poring over the Valentine's Day special in Urban last week, purely for proof reading purposes since I've never paid such close attention to this sort of gift guides before, I found myself stifling gasps of horror every 10 seconds.

Not only was there a V Day package for a candlelit dinner at the Night Safari, the meal was going to be served on a moving tram. The first thought that popped into my head was 'fire hazard'. The second was 'motion sickness'.

Then I noticed the price - $450 per couple. It included a free flow of alcohol, so I presume you can quaff your money's worth, but getting completely wasted kind of defeats the purpose of a romantic night out.

But if I thought $450 was a wee bit exorbitant, I was wrong. It apparently is the market rate for packaged sweet nothings.

A trip on the Singapore Flyer comes with only a glass of champagne each, no food except for a box of chocolates (so have your dinner beforehand), a rose posy and a goodie bag, and costs $390 for a half-hour ride.

The capsule does come with themed decor, presumably featuring heart shapes and/or half-naked cherubs, piped-in background music and - this is the part which made me shudder and cringe simultaneously - an LCD screen to display lovey dovey messages.

Even if you are in the mood for some sweet lovin' from the very conducive environment, you will have to behave because there will be nine other couples sharing your romantic moment in the same confined space.

To ensure complete privacy, prepare to pay $3,990 to book the entire capsule.

For a cheaper ride, how about booking a London cab which comes with its very own violinist to serenade you?

For $250, you are presented with three roses and will be ferried to anywhere your heart desires.

Just make sure it's not to a hospital's A&E department from having your eye poked out by the violinist wielding a bow within the tight confines of the vehicle.

Grudgingly, I have to admire these savvy and creative marketeers for knowing exactly how to package a concept as nebulous and deeply personal as romance.

I'm not sure what it is about these special Valentine's Day packages that makes me break out in hives - the opportunistic jacking up of prices for the day or the ridiculous gimmicks which make love a parody of itself.

Perhaps I've become more cynical over the years, as the grand gestures of amour become even grander, and cheesier.

I have nothing against couples who choose to sip champagne on a giant ferris wheel or ride in a cab with the strains of violin music in their ears, if they can afford it and it is truly meaningful to them.

But what makes me weak in the knees is someone cleaning my house, doing the laundry and ironing and then cooking me a (non-candlelit) dinner. Hardly anyone's idea of romance, I'm sure.

If I'm starting to sound like I've just eaten some extremely sour grapes, let me assure you that I'm not some bitter old maid who had never been showered with Valentine's Day gifts.

I was once presented with an abnormally large plush toy dog. It put all the other stuffed animals and sheepish boyfriends I saw while lugging it around Orchard Road that Valentine's Day to shame. I'm not kidding about its size - it took up an entire seat on the MRT ride home, much to my chagrin.

Similarly, I've been embarrassed by a very pink gift box topped with the ubiquitous teddy bear brandishing a heart, large unwieldy bouquets which gave my arms a strenuous workout and enough Ferrero Rocher to make me hate the taste of it forever.

To those who bought the above items for me to show your love, I did mean it when I said thank you. In fact, I mean it more now that I have finally woken up to their exorbitant prices on that one day a year. How can 36 roses cost $600?

To put things in perspective, one of the best presents I have received cost nothing at all.

It was scrawled on a yellow Post-It and said simply: 'I got you nothing because that's what you wanted. XXX'

When someone knows you well enough to know you are not acting coy about not wanting to celebrate 'that pagan holiday' and you are secure enough with each other that your relationship is not determined by that one day on the calendar, well, that is better than chocolates and flowers.

Truly, the best present is the gift of your heart.

And I do apologise if the next cliche I'm about to trot out gives you an attack of hives - if you love someone, every day should be Valentine's Day.