They told me the passion and romance of marriage would die after a few years. Of course, I objected violently.

"We are different," I said on the eve of my wedding. "Nothing can ever change us. We will never ever let the special feelings wane or die!"

Five-and-a-half years later, older and much wiser, I recollect those good old days. I was young then, innocent and very naïve! Did I really say we would never change?

Now, I am of the opinion that Valentine's Day is just another hyped-up occasion when card and flower companies make the most of the foolish emotions of young lovers. And spending hours on the phone is an abuse of airtime.

Going for long walks, I feel today, is a complete waste of time, time that can be utilised by something more productive like clearing emails or catching up on the latest sporting activity on television.

Am I just getting old and cynical? Or is this the effect of too many years in marriage?

Of course, I scoff at that romantic stuff, all that fluff and mushy nonsense. I mean, can you imagine what a waste of flowers a bouquet is? And how can you spend a fortune on trinkets, bracelets and earrings, which are relegated to the back of the drawer after the first thrill?

A good friend of mine -- married for only one year, lucky thing -- assures me that I would feel a little differently if I were at the receiving end of all the attention.

How would you like to get a phone call from him, she asks me knowingly, just because he misses the sound of your voice (and not to remind you to pay the electricity bill). Or he sends you a five-page letter to tell you how lucky he is? How would you like it if he gets home early and cooks a special meal to surprise you?

Those things happen only in mushy romantic movies, I say realistically.

Is this the beginning of midlife crisis?

Yet I would be lying if I said I wouldn't like to be told to pack my bags because he's taking me to a secluded island in the middle of some ocean -- any ocean will do, I'm not too fussy.

Please don't tell me at this point that I sound like someone who hasn't encountered a romantic moment in her life. I have had share, folks -- but that was a good 10 years ago!

You may ask, what happened after that?

Good question, simple answer -- marriage!

But does that necessarily spell the end of romance? Well, no, but the calls now are usually three minutes long, and the dinners without candles. And the cosy talks are more about which flat we're going to move in to next, where the deposit is going to come from, and which bills have to be paid this month.

As for the exotic holiday, that happens only in my dreams.

Guys, do you wonder what happened to that young, innocent, naïve girl that you married all those years ago?

Yes, I would love to receive flowers (any occasion will do). Or to get a surprise gift (a ring -- diamond if possible -- but at this point of time any stone will do). You know how silly women are when it comes to gifts. In fact, anything that has g-i-f-t written all over it will make us happy.

But as I said, folks, it might be that the years are catching up with me. And the fact that I have not had a decent holiday in ages (my boss insists that I go off every other month, but that's another matter). A visit to the parents and in-laws does not really qualify as a holiday, I'm sure you'll agree.

Romance isn't dead. It's just on the second shelf while we sort out our careers, our loans, our bills, our gas connection, our wardrobes, our investments and our PFs.

Still I resolutely hang on to my dreams (my fishy star sign lending me full support), my magical sunsets on the beach, and adventurous trips to snow-covered slopes, exciting safaris in African jungles, candlelit dinners, big surprises in small packages...

And now I shall I tell you about my favourite dream. In it he picks me up on his gorgeous stallion and off we ride into the sunset... Well, forget the stallion if it is too much of a bother.

A Mercedes will do just fine. A big, black one.