Valentine’s Day - dreaded by singletons and couples in equal measure - is here. Reporter Mary Graham (lively brunette, 30 GSOH) decided to bypass cupid, and find herself a date for the big night.

Like all daft ideas, this one seemed good at the time.

The mission was to find a date for Valentine's Day within a week, using as many methods as possible.

But when, last Friday, my colleagues suggested I walk round the town-centre wearing a sandwich board emblazoned with: “I need a date”, I really should have run for the hills.

I like to think I’m game for a laugh but finding a date within seven days will be a challenge, as quick research reveals there are no speed-dating or singles’ events in Maidstone next week.

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• Saturday - Banks Bar, Bank Street, Maidstone

After plucking up the courage to stop random men, John, 24, pauses to talk to me in the beer garden, as he couldn’t decipher my shouting.

“What would you say if I said I was looking for a date on Saturday?” I ask. “Would you think it was strange?”

“Not really” he replied. “I think you could ask anyone in here and they would be flattered. Unfortunately I’m very happy with my girlfriend but I would consider it, if I was single.”

I ask whether it is a good tactic to come straight out with the fact I’m on a date hunt.

“Put it this way, love” he replies. “You’ve got me out of a warm bar into a beer garden talking to you.”

• Sunday - Facebook

Facebook is the social networking site of the decade, isn’t it? A quick status update later to say I’m looking for a date in a week, with a few more details in my profile, should yield something. The results... nothing.

My internet friends no doubt think I’m a nutter, steer clear, or assume I’m drunk and I end up hiding the status. Sensing embarrassment my male housemate offers to be a plan B for Saturday night.

• Monday - blind date

Female friends have generally been more supportive of this quest than male ones. After I give her the nod, my friend Sarah embarks on finding single males at her work place, pledging to email me back.

When I receive her message, entitled “FW: I’m not weird”, it perhaps gives a clue to how everyone views this social experiment.

But her glowing description of me works. One, Jodie, is tempted enough to email her back asking for more details and seems up for it.

• Tuesday - having a makeover and hitting a bar

This was meant to be a big night of action. It began promisingly enough relaxing at The Green Door salon in Marden High Street, newly opened by beauty therapist Trudi Westhrop. She has kindly agreed to help by doing my make-up, as seen in my picture.

“Natural is the way to go” she advises. If only I could act natural too...

She makes me look exactly how I want to: like me but much better.

I rope a friend into hitting The Ashes in Market Buildings, on a drizzly night. Spotting a blond sitting at the bar, I pluck up the courage to saunter over.

Clearly resisting my killer look, Carl, gives my explanation a measured response.

“I’d think you’d be better off if you weren’t looking for a date on Valentine’s night,” he says.

“It feels like you are just doing it to satisfy that day. I’m here almost every Friday and Saturday... If you are serious, pop back and take it from there.”

Things take a turn for the worse when three lads turn up.

“If a girl has been single for a while, I think there must be something wrong with them,” says Rob, 25, who has a girlfriend of four years.

And being single for two years, like me?

“Ah well, I was thinking a bit longer than that. No, you’re okay,” he adds, trying to avoid the need of a shovel to dig himself out of trouble.

The verdict of Rob, and his mates James and Chris on angling for a date in a matter of days is unanimous: It’s a bit sad.

• Wednesday - last chance saloon and the sandwich board seems a good idea.

I can’t believe this is ending by grabbing a colleague and a camera and stopping men in Fremlin Walk at lunchtime.

I fix on a group of lads who look like a laugh.

One of them, Jack Walsh, says he would be up for a date on Valentine’s night and gives me his number.

There’s just one thing. Despite my guess at an age of 23, he’s 17.

“Yeah, I’d go out on a date with you,” the Oakwood Park pupil says, not realising I’m 13 years his senior.

“I think I would be quite romantic on Valentine’s night,”

He is a lovely lad and if he had a few more years under his belt, I would be straight on the phone.

I have more accumulations than I did five days ago - a number, a potential blind date, a kind housemate, and a priceless insight into the male mind.

And I’m chuffed that in an age where we agonise what information we put online, the approaches that get results are old-fashioned, but effective: having a friend put a word in for you, and just talking to people.