Isn't it morantic - I mean, romantic?

With Valentine's Day coming up, I thought I should write about romance today. It seemed the right thing to do.

I've never actually met Matthew Gray Gubler. He is an actor, and he also lives in Internetland, where he draws, writes and makes pretty stuff.

According to a post on his blog, his perfect woman:

"Must love decorating for holidays, mischief, kissing in cars, and wind chimes. No specific height, weight, hair colour, or political affiliation required. But would prefer a warm spirited, non-racist. Cynics, critics, pessimists and 'stick-in-the-muds' need not reply. Voluptuous figures a plus. Any similarity in look, mind-set, or fashion sense to Mary Poppins, Claire Huxtable, Snow White or Elvira wholeheartedly welcomed. I am dubious of actresses, felons and lesbians, but don't want to rule them out entirely. She must be tolerant of whistling, tickle torture, James Taylor and sleeping late. I have a slight limp, eerily soft hands and a preternatural love of autumn. I wiggle my feet in my sleep, am scared of the dark and think The Muppet Christmas Carol is one of the greatest films of all time. All I want is butterfly kisses in the morning, peanut butter sandwiches shaped like a heart and to make you smile until it hurts."

Matthew Gray Gubler needs a good smack, if you ask me. He's really not helping. Between him and Hollywood, the ever-hopeful romantic women of this world don't stand a chance. I mean, it all sounds very charming and lovely, but it's just not realistic, is it? C'mon Matthew, C'mon Hollywood, really?

Does anyone here know of someone to whom any of the following has actually happened in real life? (And I mean actually know someone, not know someone who knows someone whose cousin heard that it happened to their boyfriend's sister):

• A guy stood holding a boom box above his head outside a bedroom window, playing a meaningful song to woo the girl he fancies.
• Someone escaped through security and chased a lover down in an airport, to stop them boarding a plane so they could declare their love and be together forever, happily ever after, sans morning breath.
• Someone organised a flash mob of perfect strangers to surprise a loved one with a synchronised, choreographed dance in the food court at a mall.
• Two people shared a plate of spaghetti and both ended up sucking up the same piece of pasta from different ends until their lips touched.

Okay, so that last one was based on a cartoon, but anyway, you get my point. And I'm not trying to be all bah-humbug about romance, I really do enjoy those scenes and the picture Matthew Gray Gubler paints of the perfect relationship, really I do, but at some point we have to admit that this almost never happens in real life.

Maybe one in 20000 or 30000 relationships experiences big romantic gestures on that scale, or the kind of romance Matty alludes to.

It's not you, girls and boys, I swear it. Love just isn't that neat and tidy. On planet Real World, perfectly worded, uninterrupted and heartfelt monologues such as "I'm just a girl standing in front of a boy ..." or "you had me at hello... " don't just pour out of a person's mouth fully formed.

On the whole, men are non-communicative and mostly non-committal. Women want unattainable things. It doesn't rain or shine on demand. People cheat, we don't always dress well, or wake up with perfect make-up. We're fickle, and sometimes we fart. The truth is, we live in real life, not in the movies.

And I'm sorry, Matthew Gray Gubler, but please can we just try to be even a little bit realistic here. Two years into a relationship, people do not only want "butterfly kisses in the morning, peanut butter sandwiches shaped like a heart, and to make you smile until it hurts".

Rather, two years into a relationship, people want you to remember to take the bins out on a Tuesday, change the cat litter, put the damn cap back on the blimming toothpaste when you've finished with it, and for you not to leave your used teabag on the side of the sink. That's what people really want.

So this Valentine's Day, while I'd certainly like it if a guy hired a plane and wrote a personalised romantic haiku in the sky above my office, I'm realistic enough to admit that, instead, I'll more than likely just get a card. Typed. In a text message.