I’m a bit meh about Valentine’s Day. It’s all very nice and that but – maybe a bit like I find the ‘in your face’ sexiness of Fifty Shades oh-so-unsexy, I’m less than excited about the slightly embarrassing obviousness of it. That said I have had some truly memorable Valentine’s encounters.  There were, of course, many years of telling childish fibs about stacks of cards that had never actually arrived.   In my late teens I had the Dawson’s Creek style overly-elaborate, rose-filled Valentine’s that only a (well-intentioned) teenage boyfriend could have thought was a great idea.  In my twenties I traveled with a…