Andy Richardson: Ain't love grand? Less is more for romance

There ain't no fool like a 20-year-old fool on five pints of Stella Artois lager. My understandably unhappy ex had no need for a token of my withdrawn affection and had driven five miles to return Ape to the gibbon who'd bought it.

Ape had been tucked safely in her passenger seat and she'd no doubt told him of my misdemeanours while driving through a veil of tears to drop him off at Monkeying-Around-Central.

As I stumbled through the door at 11pm, half cut from the drink, I discovered the unwanted and abandoned ape. His eyes looked into mine, telling me what a fool I'd been. And his presence prompted two questions. Firstly, why do blokes think grand gestures are the way to a woman's heart? And, secondly, what the hell have apes got to do with love?

I mean, I'd have understood my actions if I'd bought my then-partner something cute, like a cuddly swan or a real life labradoodle. There'd even have been some logic if I'd brought her a huge cuddly lion instead. That could have roared about my love.

But no, I'd bought an ape – an undeveloped human with primitive cognition. Apes may have exceptional problem-solving abilities but they also have inept etiquette, nascent social skills and fart without saying sorry. Hmmmm. Maybe there was a connection after all. Maybe my 'cuddly ape' message couldn't have been clearer.

I looked at Ape. Ape looked at me. The drink kicked in and I challenged him to a late-night game of tree climbing. I won. He was a stuffed toy. I was an athletic and reasonably gung-ho man of 20. The ape had no chance. And climbing trees while drunk is one of life's great pleasures. Ooo ooo ooo, monkey man.

Ape wasn't the only grand gesture I've made during a lifetime of being hopeless at love. I once popped to Tesco to buy a horrible sandwich and returned to the office £900 lighter and without my BLT. I'd walked past a jewellers' shop that had strangely magnetic qualities. The window had housed a pear-shaped diamond ring and I'd decided it would be the perfect way to make up for a contretemps that my then-partner and I had endured. So instead of buying ham-cheese-and-pickle-on-white I'd bought pear-on-gold. Idiot.

Women's magazines say ladies love nothing more than the grand gestures. They suggest there's nothing sexier than the 'big-surprise' or the 'I've-been-planning-this-for-weeks' gesture. Such actions say the guy understands that actions speak louder than words, they say the rest of the world can be put on hold because you, pretty lady, are the only thing that counts, they say 'I'm not all talk, I'm a keeper'.

That's fine in theory. But the reality of big gestures is mired in the mundanity of real life. I once swept a girlfriend away to Brighton for what might have been a fantastic weekend. It was supposed to be a surprise but within seconds of reaching the M25 she'd guessed where we were going and decided she wanted to go somewhere else instead. So instead of barrelling down to the south coast on the M23 we took a detour to her favourite shop in London. Oh misery. On another occasion, I sent surprise flowers. The guy delivered them while my partner was at the shops getting the milk. When she got home they'd been destroyed by a heavy storm. Petal-less stalks in soggy paper didn't create the impression this never-gonna-be Romeo had hoped for.

Grand gestures don't work. One partner once bought us a jar filled with lollipop sticks. On each one was a suggestion for something romantic, like, 'organise a date night', 'watch a movie together' or 'flick cheeseballs at passers-by through the open window of your bedroom'. Okay, I made up the last one. But it would have been funnier than reading lollipop sticks stuck in a jar. Lollipop sticks are for lollipops, even I know that.

After too many failures to recount, I've realised that romance isn't about making grand gestures. Those who do tend to fall flat on their face. Because, let's face it, grand gestures are all about attracting attention rather than expressing love. Nah.

It's simple kindness that counts. Love is about the small, unseen gestures; the moments of attention that aren't self-serving and self-promoting.

Love is a slow sedimentation of thoughtfulness and warmth – that's what creates the bedrock upon which relationships stand. In the final analysis, it's simple. Love is about deciding not to behave like an ape – rather than buying a big stuffed one.