IT'S Valentine's Day on Saturday and I'm expecting a beautifully-wrapped parcel from my husband containing some incredibly sexy lingerie.

In all the years -- married for almost 10, cohabiting for more than 20 -- we have been together I have never, ever received one item of underwear from my beloved. And I thank my lucky stars for that.

My husband's first words on Christmas mornings are not "Merry Christmas" but "I've kept the receipt."

He is about as successful with gifts as David Brent is with women. And buying underwear would not simply involve sauntering up to a shelf and taking the goods to the till. There are labels to be scrutinised, sizes to be memorised -- and that's before you get down to the design and the material.

According to a survey by an Internet service provider only 50 per cent of men have ever bought lingerie for their partner and more than a quarter of them would find it embarrassing to do so.

We women may mock -- after all we don't have any problems buying boxer shorts and the like. But buying for men is, if you will excuse the expression in this context, a different ball game.

Once you know your partner's size from the limited field of 'Small, Medium, Large and Extra-Large' (I won't boost my husband's ego by stating his size because it happens to be attributable to too-many curries rather than anything nature gave him) and the sort of design he prefers (stay clear of any man who sports novelty undies, that's all I can say) its as easy as ABC.

Whereas men buying for women have to go though the minefield of high legs or low legs, drop waists, high waists, bum slimmers, tum trimmers, lace or Lycra, stretch or comfort. And that's just the knickers.

Bras present worse problems. The sizes are confusing to us women -- I still don't know whether the numbers or letters relate to the back or bust -- so it must be virtually impossible for men.

Then there's a host of other considerations -- front-fastening, back-fastening, plunge, padded, push-up, under-wire. Not forgetting the mechanics -- hooks & eyes or clasps, and the material -- cotton or polyester, plain white or leopard-print.

Suggestions abound as to what men should do to get it right including rifling through their wife's underwear drawer or asking their wife's best mate, sister or mum.

My husband would no more feel able to chat to my mum about bra sizes than he would be to invite my dad to a night out at Spearmint Rhino.

And the drawer route is a non-starter. As well as the obvious, my underwear (it's not worthy of the word 'lingerie') drawer is home to every piece of bric-a-brac I have collected since school, plus the odd item of underwear from those days.

Based on its contents my husband would probably end up buying a trainer bra for a 13-year-old.

I suppose the Internet has made things easier. However, if you caught your husband scrolling through ladies' lingerie web sites, would you really believe it was for your benefit? I'd be throwing his things out into the street faster than you could say "cotton-lined gusset." Men should stick to bubble bath and flowers on Valentine's Day -- it's a lot safer.