BAGHDAD, Iraq (AP) — For Adel Mousa, Valentine’s Day is complicating an already delicate situation with his fiancee: He postponed their wedding planned for this month and has been looking for a safe way to make it up to her.

Mousa, a 28-year-old engineer, says he already has days he avoids his fiancee simply because water shortages leave him looking — and smelling — less than desirable.

So, setting aside his worries as best he can, Mousa’s made dinner reservations Monday, Valentine’s Day at a fancy restaurant. He’ll rush Rana home before dark.

“It’s unsafe for couples to stroll Baghdad streets — car bombs and explosions are everywhere,” Mousa said. “I don’t want her to be hurt or kidnapped by gangsters.”

Valentine’s Day has never been a widely marked holiday in Iraq. Some Iraqis eye it suspiciously as a retail gimmick to get people to spend money they don’t have; others say it’s inappropriate — a violation of conservative Islamic values — or that it simply is not possible to find an appropriate place to steal a romantic moment.

These days, isolated corners largely out of sight are too dangerous — crowded cafes are far safer, if less romantic. And in a time when Islamic extremists are fighting alongside loyalists of former dictator Saddam Hussein, public displays of affection are risky.

At City Center, a western Baghdad restaurant popular among high school and university students, a husky bouncer kicks out couples who cross red lines of propriety.

“No kisses, no touching and no hiding in the restaurants’ corners,” said Omar Mufeed, who tips the scales at more than 300 pounds.

“All the couples hate me. I am even known in all the universities,” said Mufeed, 35. “But I would tell those who fear me, I am only doing my job.”

Zaid Falih, a 24-year-old student, said he will buy a bouquet of flowers for his sweetheart — against his better judgment. Valentine’s Day, he said, is just an excuse to squander money. “It will be the cheapest thing I can buy,” Falih said of his bouquet.

Martin Rowel, who sat inside a Baghdad ice cream shop with his girlfriend Wafaa, downplayed the importance of such a holiday.

“I don’t need an official date to celebrate love,” said Rowel, 25.

But sometimes, he acknowledged, he’s needed a little help.

Rowel, a Christian who derided Islamic extremists as the scourge of Iraqi society, said he and fellow students at the nearby Technology University would gather at times in the same ice cream shop, pretending to be a group of casual friends.

But each privately would pay attention only to one special date, he said, giving Wafaa’s hands a warm squeeze.