would you rather get married or lick a tramp?

I often start a blog post with no intent and no idea where it will take me. This is one of those occasions. My mum's come back, so the house has a miserable air. I'm glad I'm only going to be here for a couple more days. She does have her uses though, having just removed a monster earwig from the kitchen for me. I've always hated the vile little things ever since I found one hanging out of my finger a few years back. Grim.

According to the Guardian, Warwick is now second only to Oxford and Cambridge in excellence. This means I will be even more gutted when I fail to make the cut in just over a month.

Also according to the Guardian, one in five of those in a relationship claim to be in love with a third party. The article then goes on to dismiss these feelings as misdirected lust and rather self-righteously explain where these poor, misguided romantics went wrong in their relationships, even stating that they have never known love at all. Of course, just because I think the journalist in question sounds like a bit of a ponse, doesn't mean I disagree with her.

Now, I may be about as cynical as they come. When people ask me why I don't have a boyfriend, I scoff and say something derisive about men, cite my insane independence and say something wry about my general contempt for society. I make no secret of the fact that I don't believe in marriage. I have completely perfected my ''can't argue with the statistics'' argument, and though I try to be supportive to those of my friends who have chosen to get engaged at the ripe old age of eighteen, I can't help but be pessimistic. It's just my nature, I've never been mushy. And when yet another person blames my attitudes to all this crap on the "hard time" I've supposedly had in life, inside I am screaming that I would have been like this anyway! That's what I let myself think.

I think at the end of the day, it's all about what makes us happy. I am perfectly content with the idea of being married to literature and music and goats' cheese. I'm not saying this won't change, but for now I'm dangerously close to the terrifying precipice that is happiness, and I find it disconcerting. After all, youth is supposed to centre itself around self-obsessed angst, isn't it? Meanwhile, the label of a slightly damaged , hostile girl has been working just fine for me, and I will think very carefully before ditching it.