Valentine Fairy explains it all to you

Well, folks, Monday is Valentine's Day, and I'm sure you've prepared meticulously, shopped exhaustively and designed this day for your sweetheart in every possible way, right? Of course you have ... (snicker) ... but, don't sweat it. In my never-ending quest to be of service, I will hereby present a few basic suggestions to guarantee a successful Valentine's Day. Follow these directions to the letter, and you will, at the end of the day, be buried in flowers, chocolate, diamonds -- or, if the gods are really smiling, a huge, flower-shaped diamond inside an enormous box of fudge.

To the ladies first. Let me just say that hints are a waste of time. Men are literal people. If you want to go to the restaurant where you had your first Valentine's Day together, don't drop enigmatic (look it up!) little comments such as, "Remember our first Valentine's Day?" He won't remember your first Valentine's Day ... last year's Valentine's Day, or actually any Valentine's Day, because of the fact that after sweating out their wives' or girlfriends' basic gift-giving expectations on any given holiday, men move on ... grateful to live another day. You're simply asking too much.

You want to go to Casa di Tortellini? He'll say, "Sure, whatever," because he's watching game highlights, and he "senses" your voice droning on somewhere in the back of his mind. But, he doesn't really "hear" you. You need to preface your suggestion with something along the lines of, "Sweetums, I saw that issue of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition hidden in your bottom drawer, aaaand ..." (this targets both his love for sports -- and his undying belief that he could actually have a swimsuit model if he wanted one -- plus his fervent desire not to be humiliated by you for that conviction). Or, you might try, "Pookie Bear, your friend Jerry called to see if you wanted to go bowling next week on all beer is free night, buuut ..." (this targets his other major zone -- consumption). You now have his undivided attention, and are in perfect position to follow up with, "Sooo, wanna go to Casa di Tortellini for Valentine's Day? -- Which is tomorrow!" Trust me, you're there.

As to the male's genetically weak gift selection capabilities, if you're too much of a romantic simply to say what you want, remember that a picture is worth a thousand hints. Cut out pictures of the valentine's gifts you desire, and place them strategically throughout the house: a photo of a diamond tiara taped to the TV remote; a perfume sample slipped into his smelly basketball sneakers (which kills two birds, if you know what I'm saying); an ad for a day at the spa stuffed inside his Cap'n Crunch. These are all messages he will appreciate.

When it comes to buying something for your guy, remember those three major zones, plus the always-popular "some assembly required." Because, with a set of un-assembled bookshelves (especially when the directions are in Farsi) most men can be happily occupied for weeks.

He does not want a candle, a poem, or an Enya CD. And, if you have flowers delivered to him at work, just to be cute and quirky? ... Well, his co-workers will be driving by at all hours of the night, shouting derogatory epithets and then speeding away laughing raucously, for years to come ... not that I ever did that. Stay in the zones, ladies. Stay in the zones.

Now, as to you gentlemen, I think the most beneficial thing I can do is to help you "decode" some common female gift proclamations:

Let's take, "Oh, honey, don't get me anything big." In lady-language, this means, "Diamonds come in very small boxes."

"Baby, I don't want anything. Really. Nothing!" Transcribed, this is, "Baby, I want something. Really. Something incredible!"

"Oh, Schmoopie, just give me what you'd like me to have." Watch out for this one, guys. The literal translation of this sentence, as written in "The Gentlewoman's Book of Gifting Requirements and Warnings" is: "Schmoopie, if you give me a Road Emergency Kit, I will tell my mother and sisters, who will make you pay. If you bring me anything remotely associated with power tools or lawn maintenance, you will be sleeping with it in the garage. And, God forbid you should bring me anything that has to do with housework, or cooking ... or anything that requires words such as 'louvered hoods, lowered 4-inch, '55 Merc taillights, stainless steel dual exhaust and Lakes Pipes' for, I will sell it on eBay to pay for my divorce lawyer."

And, finally, there's "Honey, just give me what you think I deserve." Translation: "There isn't enough money in the world."

Vicki Wentz's column, which appears here on Sundays, is published in newspapers across the country. She is a high school teacher who lives in Chapel Hill, N.C. Readers may contact her at vwentz@mindspring.com.