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You're a single metropolitan male in your late 20s in the mid-2000's. You've finally found the one haircut that doesn't make you look like Richard Branson, got money in your pocket and a well-thumbed book on tantric philosophy that's taught you to make sex last a full 10 minutes. Your job is now a career, your friends are for life and you've learned not to tell 'that' joke in mixed company. The pressure's mounting on you to take that step into the big leagues. Your parents aren't getting any younger, and you'd like to present them with some form of significant achievement before it's time for you to change their nappies. And it's not even that you particularly want to get married; you're just annoyed that you've never been asked. Even then, you'd still prefer to be single on alternating weekends and public holidays. But you're resisting. There's still a bad taste in your mouth when you think about matching quilt sets and 'a quiet night in'.