I am worried. Not only have I failed my spinster exams, but as marriage fast approaches I'm starting to become practically enamoured of the co-habiting state.
This weekend, I bought a vase and picture frames. I had an animated discussion with the geeky boyfriend about how to beautify our rather haphazard flat. I swished around, poking a feather duster under the bed and frightening spiders out of their hidey-holes, until the place was clean if not spotless. I poached partridge with pears in wine sauce for Mon Geek, with sultana-stuffed baked apples to follow. I selected pictures and oversaw him putting them up. There were no arguments and the weekend ran smoothly, as if on oiled wheels.
Christ, it's scared the shit out of me.
I mean, what could come next? Trips to Homebase and B&Q to buy shelving? Spending precious bank holidays buying new sofas or carpets? Barbeques for couples only? It's a scary prospect. Being happy with Mon Geek is one thing, but sinking into the smug complacency of conventional coupledom is quite another. And I'm beginning to see its attractions, God help me.
There's only one thing to do. I must reclaim my spinsterhood forthwith. I must retreat into all the things which characterise spinsters. I must learn petit point. I shall hone my wit until I have a tart rejoinder for every compliment paid me. I shall treat men as though they were beneath my notice. I shall take frugal repasts for one, and I shall acquire a cat.
And then, with hard work, I shall retain some links to my former spinsterhood, without having to get rid of Mon Geek. Because that would be too much for my coupley heart.