I LIKE to think that I'm the last of the romantics; I turn to mush over a power ballad, and cried like a baby at the end of Titanic. So I don't know why I haven't got a fit of the warm fuzzies over celebville's latest coupling, Georgia Salpa and Calum Best.
She is, after all, Ireland's top model and he's a 'reformed' womaniser, tired, apparently, of sowing his plentiful oats.
They met, like most beautiful people these days, on a reality TV show, playing out their courtship in half-hourly episodes three times a week on Celebrity Salon.
Now, apparently, Calum has whisked Georgia off on a five-star romantic romp in Tuscany, taking time out to get to know each other. Just the two of them, Hello magazine and the world's paparazzi.
Yes, just the two of them, playing in the sea, kissing and cuddling, while a pack of noisy, obtrusive photographers click away.
Just as well Georgia is a natural in front of the cameras, so.
All the while, Calum's been tweeting about how crazy he is for his new girl (winking smiley face) and -- oh! -- about getting his fragrance, Best, licensed in, em, Italy.
Okay, okay, enough. Is there anyone on this planet who isn't aware of what's really going on here? Or how this whole thing works? Model meets Z-lister, model and Z-lister fall hopelessly in love while the nation watches avidly, model and Z-lister get accidentally 'caught' having a 'quiet drink', model and Z-lister deny anything's going on, model and Z-lister then declare the undyings, go on holidays, pose for endless photos and launch/ relaunch careers on the back of it all. Ker-ching!
I'm guessing this shall last as long as it's useful to them. Georgia's modelling rate will go up, there'll also be a rate if you want to hire the two as a couple and there won't be a black-tie event or nightclub opening without pictures of these two beautiful people plastered everywhere the next day.
They've even gone and got a celebrity couple nickname. Hot on the heels of Brangelina, Tom-Kat and Brogue (Brian and Vogue) -- ladies and gentlemen, live from Tuscany, please be upstanding for the Calpas.
We might have believed this was true love a few years ago; we might have got tingly goosebumps over the frissons of the are-they, aren't-they rumours. But just as PRs, agents and handlers have worked out the value of a celebrity romance, we as an audience have, I hope, wised up to their game.
And so, Georgia and Calum, I smell a rat. Possibly a love rat too, but if we want to rake over Calum's past, I think that's a whole different ball game and another day's work.
Time shall, of course, tell but for the rest of this summer, I foresee a deluge of photo opportunities, special appearances, tabloid headlines and cheesy tweets. The Calpas at Oxegen ... The Calpas in Krystle ... The Calpas feeding the ducks in Georgia's home turf of Stephen's Green ... The Calpas hanging out with Michelle Heaton ...
Georgia, Calum, forgive me if I'm wrong. And absolutely call me a cynical old wagon.
But if this is true love, the real thing, and if you are each other's lobsters, I promise not only to apologise profusely, but also to feature your wedding in Image magazine's social diary.
In the meantime, I won't hold the back page.
Melanie Morris is editor of IMAGE Magazine