Age: something other than a number

Singles nights are just a women's magazine article waiting to happen, so to avoid cliche I will describe it as I think a man might.

Arrived. Met some women. Most were alright looking. Some were nice. Went home.

That, essentially, was it. Grania and I had too much Dutch courage and I left without noting down who I liked, so the exercise was fairly pointless as a means of seeing anyone again, but it was very funny and made me feel vaguely alluring, which is, of course, excellent. I'd do it again.

Highlights were Grania winning Blind Hate, me persuading a boy to steal me a shot of Kaluha from behind the untended bar and then giggling compulsively when he was caught by the seriously unamused barman, and a gargantuan Russian who brought the room's average age up by about 30 years, who lived in Reading and worked for himself selling what I thought was "car insurance" and what Grania thought was "currency". It was very noisy. I knew that one of my favourite guys was a fair bit younger than me, but when I discovered he was 23 I must have looked crestfallen, as he said, "Is that below your cut-off?" and I admitted that 28 was below my cut-off. He looked shocked that I was so prescriptive, but when I explained that I wouldn't mind getting married and starting to have babies in the next 3-5 years, his eyes darted away, his jaw set into a tension lock, and after visibly gulping, he agreed that perhaps we were at different life stages. During Speed Hating, a guy told me that he hated malaria, as he'd recently caught it in Tanzania, and then proceeded to lay into the 'terrible' Tanzanian health service. When his minute was up, I then ranted about how much I hate boys who are ill, and that just because the term 'man flu' is a bit funny, it doesn't make it acceptable for every male to walk around sniffing and coughing the whole time. Ill men are boring and annoying and people should just get better in private. Those trying to bring out the Florence Nightingale in their ladyfriends should bear in mind that we may nurse you better but we won't fancy you. Make your choice. The poor boy looked a bit shocked but I told him this was all for his own good. He'll thank me for it one day.

So. Still single. Still free. Still quite young. High five.