Have you ever bought a Valentine's Day gift at Victoria's Secret? I must confess I find the whole experience unnerving. Walking into this eclectic mix of airbrushed black and white supermodel posters juxtaposed with polka dotted burlap mannequins, unflattering undies wedged-up their hoo-has, makes me self-conscious. As a middle-aged man, I'm paranoid the young attendants might think me some sort of pervert, invading their hallowed candy shop for the flesh. Which way should I look? Do I make eye contact? How do I know what to get? And, why is there a sign that says "she's gonna like this"? Shouldn't it be "you're gonna like this"? Finally, am I going to hell for chuckling at the untoward cast of characters scavenging the clearance rack? I think better of it, find the nearest exit and leave. Once at a safe distance, I realize the awkward eternity spent in the store was more like three minutes. On to plan B. This Valentine's Day, my sweetheart is getting a really sweet gift. A dozen heart-shaped boston cream-filled donuts --and a nice dinner.