A crucial national holiday is looming on the horizon. Ignoring this holiday could imperil your current and future happiness, especially if you’re a guy.

Valentine’s Day is a boon for the greeting card, floral, and jewelry industries. Sales could be tripled if their stores’ sound systems played “Mandy” by Barry Manilow on a continuous loop. One guy, after hearing that sap-drenched song for the first time, said, “It made me want to call all of my old girlfriends and beg them for forgiveness.”

I mentioned that quote to my wife and she replied, “You darn skippy he should!”

But what to do if you’re a guy who, like me, has been married to the same lady for 45 years? By now we’ve said everything we need to say and have expressed every possible expression of affection.

I’ve decided that one way to accomplish this is by doing my fair share of the housework. As a female comedian once observed, “No husband has ever been shot by his wife while he was washing the dishes.”

The story goes that Ole and Lena had been married for many years. One day Lena asked Ole, “Why don’t you ever say that you love me?”

“I said it once when we were standing at the altar,” Ole replied. “And I would have let you know if I’d changed my mind.”

Evolution seems to have put us guys mostly in charge of romance even though we stink at it. It’s like forcing a right-handed pitcher to throw with his left arm. Nobody will be happy with the results.

Romantic music can help a guy set the mood. Among my top choices for that purpose is “I’ll Have to Say I Love You in a Song” by the late, great Jim Croce. An example of a less desirable love tune, from a feminine point of view, might be a song such as “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard.

So, what’s a guy to do when he has been married for as long as my wife and me?

In our case, we’ve been watching the Netflix series “Bridgerton.”

I am secure enough in my masculinity to admit that not only do I watch “Bridgerton,” I actually enjoy it. My wife likes the show for all of its lace and frills and swoopy hairdos. And that’s just the men. The ladies’ coiffeurs and garments are even more over the top. A woman’s outfit can involve enough cloth to rig a triple-masted clipper ship.

Even though “Bridgerton” is, as my wife calls it, a “girly-girl show,” there is much entertainment and edification to be had from watching this Regency romantic drama. There are the secret yearnings, the struggles to find true love, the sneaking around in the shadows, the viper’s pit of gossips, the backstabbing, the perpetual peril of social snubbing. In other words, it’s exactly like junior high school.

But my wife is a great sport and our TV watching choices are a two-way street. She will sit with me patiently while I drool over such shows as Antique Tractor Fever and the televised Mecum or Barrett-Jackson car auctions. In our own ways, we are each indulging in fantasies that will likely remain mere daydreams.

My wife and I have a somewhat unusual relationship in that she saved my life. Literally.

When I was 30 years old, I entered a manure pit on our family’s dairy farm and was overcome by toxic hydrogen sulfide gas. I was ambulanced to a local hospital where the ER doctor told my wife that I had zero chance of surviving.

She insisted that I be helicoptered to a larger hospital. After I’d been there for a few days, I suffered life-threatening complications. My doctor told my wife to call the family, that it was the end of the road for me. She again insisted that additional steps be taken. After a month in Intensive Care and a week in a regular room, I was able to walk out of the hospital and resume my life.

In the song “To Sir with Love,” Lulu croons, “How do you thank someone who has taken you from crayons to perfume?”

I have a better question. How do you thank someone who has taken you from death’s door to a full and happy life?

What could I possibly give in return?

The only thing I can think of is my time. And so, this Valentine’s Day, I think my wife and I will settle on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and take in a TV show that we’ll both enjoy.

I’m up for rewatching “Downton Abbey.”

— Jerry’s book, “Dear County Agent Guy” can be found at www.workman.com and in bookstores nationwide.