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The Summer of Love

OK, so it's not quite 1967 and I'm by no means suggesting that we all get down and dirty for some free love and a higher, chemically enhanced social experience (maybe that's what's wrong with the country?), but summertime is undoubtedly the best time to be in a couple.

There's something seductive, enchanting and exotic about the summer, probably because we're not used to it after living in a plethora of layers of hoodies, scarves and more scarves (long johns optional), but also because everything looks so beautiful in the sun.

Picture it, you're at the obligatory summer BBQ with your OH, your hair has a distinct stench of smoked sausages and you're on your fifth glass of Pimms and lemonade, yet despite her Chanel Chance being masked by eau de BBQ, you have never seen her look so beautiful. So what are you so scared of? It's high time you wiped away your proverbial tears and accept that, no, Beyonce is never going to take you up on your offer of a life in Notting Hill with whichever 4x4 takes her fancy.

Use this summer to your advantage. Take her for a surprise champagne picnic in the park (Dom Perignon Ros is a good place to start), RSVP to the umpteen wedding invites that you have shoved in one-of-those-drawers-that-everybody-has and go book that holiday that you were procrastinating over in work last November. Every girl loves to be romanced (it's not our fault OK? Disney gave us unrealistic expectations of romance) so show you care with actions, not words/flowers/chocolates and take inspiration from man-band du jour Take That and relight your [relationship] fire.

Who knows what might happen while star-gazing on the bay of Lake Garda, perhaps George Clooney will pop out from his holiday home and snaffle her from right under your nose or perhaps, just perhaps, you might realise that on the 40th anniversary of the San Francisco experience, this summer could be your summer of love. And propose.

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