I’ve never had much luck in the romance department, and each year, Valentine’s Day serves as a glaring reminder of this fact.

I can’t remember any really good Valentine’s Day experience. You know, the kind you envision growing up, based off movies (and my mom’s trashy romance novels that I sneaked to read — those things give you a very unrealistic view of life).

I doubt anyone really has had that oh-so-magical, perfect romantic Hallmark moment that they anticipate.

Valentine’s Day has become just one big commercialized event that fills consumers with implausible expectations.

Cartoon character Lisa Simpson put it best when she said: “Mom, romance is dead. It was acquired in a hostile takeover by Hallmark and Disney, homogenized and sold off piece by piece.”

Cards, candy and flowers. It seems to be what Valentine’s Day is now all about.

Personally, the first and only time I got flowers for Valentine’s Day, they were accompanied by a 40-ounce bottle of beer. Nothing says romance like 40 ounces of cheap beer.

Despite the disdain I feel for the holiday’s trappings, I have struggled with the day for years. After all, a day that focuses on romance when you are single, by choice or not, is difficult.

Some people say it’s just another day, but it’s hard to ignore when for weeks, stores look like they have been thrown up upon by someone who had too much Pepto-Bismol.

This year, the nauseating day falls on a Saturday. On a weekday, you can often skim by the event, citing an early morning or late work night to distract yourself — but a weekend night? It’s hard to ignore. But take heart (because you know there aren’t enough of those floating around right now): You aren’t the only single guy or gal out there, and most likely, the bars will be packed.

Skip the romantic restaurant and hit the bars with your friends. Not to worry about the taken — they are crammed into restaurants that bought the Pepto-Bismol decorations.

For those teetotalers out there, or those who wisely fear getting plastered and then drunk-dialing an ex, I have some sober options.

One of my favorite Valentine’s memories is the year that my best friend Jen and I decided to be each other’s Valentines. (Ironically enough, that was the same Valentine’s Day as the 40-ounce beer and the flowers, but they were left on the front porch by a friend, and weren’t from Jen.)

Jen and I made a romantic dinner together — manicotti, which actually when you do it homemade together, it’s really not at all romantic, kind of more messy then anything else. But I guess that is kind of like love.

We sat on the couch watching movies, eating our manicotti and splitting a bottle of champagne. OK, we each had our own bottle, but since they were two different flavors, we split both of them.

I can’t remember what movie Jen and I watched, although I am pretty sure we avoided any romantic comedies, dramas or chick flicks.

My recommendation: Watch a horror movie, something dark or something about love gone wrong. Some suggestions include “Fatal Attraction,” “Lolita” and “Heathers.”

Avoid movies about true love like the “Notebook” or “Moulin Rouge.” Avoid any Disney movies: They just further those unrealistic expectations. In this day and age, if you get a knight in shining armor on a white horse, trust me — he has some mental issues and you should run away.

So whatever you do to mark the day that has become over-commercialized, or if you just ignore the day, remember that someone has it worse than you and you aren’t alone — no matter how much you may feel like it.