Uh-oh, V-Day is coming up.

Yes, my favorite holiday of the year—this one even outshines Halloween (the candy makes it a close second) and Christmas.

As anyone who has ever seen my apartment or room can attest, I love hearts. I am simply a heart freak—with heart-shaped cookie cutters, tins, crystal containers, wreaths, cross-stitch wall hangings, etc., etc. Buy me a heart-shaped anything and you got it made.

Don’t get me wrong. I hate frou-frou. I don’t read trashy novels with full-bosomed women hanging out of Victorian lace dresses and clinging to an equally nauseating leading man (ultimately named “Spence” or “Brock”) on the cover. I don’t go around quoting Leo Buscaglia every five minutes and I certainly don’t wear seven shades of pink in one outfit with little lace socks.

On Valentine’s Day, however, I go a little crazy, taking out all my dust-collecting heart tins and filling them with chalklike candy conversation hearts reading “Dear One,” “So Fine” and “Let’s Smooch.” I buy 25 Valentine’s Day cards—at least five for the Main Man—hence squandering my weekly grocery allowance.

My love of Valentine’s Day harks back to second grade, when room mothers showed up with Hi-C, heart cookies and sour cherry balls.

Back then, the number of Valentines you received demonstrated your popularity. “I got 32,” I snottily told my best friend. “So? I got 33, plus one from the room mother!” she shot back. I refrained from dumping my Hi-C on her.

Looking back, I realize exchanging valentines had nothing to do with popularity; it was simply every mother made her child hand out valentines to be sociable and so classmates’ feelings wouldn’t be hurt. If a kid didn’t get one, it was the sender’s fault. I never did like Cassie What’s-Her-Name (especially after she hit me with a Lego airplane) so I hid hers in my spelling book. Rude? Yeah, but I was a kid.

Today, I’m more down to earth but, like most romantics and heart-lovers, look forward to February 14. It’s a mid-winter break-the-blahs holiday, where I can wear red socks (of course with hearts) and a siren-red sweatshirt and and eat Fannie May without feeling guilty.

So, for that “special someone” and the “love of your life” (Hallmark terms), I’ve pooled my resources and devised a couple of gift ideas for the heart-loving person.

* Write a poem. My first love poem, sent to me in fourth grade by the geek next to me eloquently proclaimed, “Lin, Lin (sic) sat on a pin. Lin Lin.” As long as it’s more original than “Roses are red, violets are blue…,” a poem is a sure heart-stopper. Heck, these days it doesn’t even have to rhyme.

* Devise a treasure hunt by leaving obscure clues all over the house, like “look in fridge” or “check toilet,” ending with the present hidden in some strange cubbyhole an hour and an exasperated boyfriend/girlfriend later.

You can also just send the traditional candy/flowers or say “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweet Baboo.” If you don’t have a steady/scam hanging around or have sworn off mingling forever, call Mom, Dad, Grandma or Grandpa. One of them is bound to be glad to hear from you. And hey, St. Pattie’s day is next month, complete with green beer.