Last month, one particular weekend made me think a lot about the reality of “cuffing season”.

I had two bubble baths, finished reading a great book, cooked all my hearty and delicious meals from scratch and watched every TV episode I’d been meaning to catch up on. I even contemplated embarking on a marathon viewing of The OC from episode one, but resisted because there’s no pressing pause on Seth and Sandy Cohen. Sounds like a dreamy way to spend a rainy, winter weekend, right?

However, while splashing around in the bubbles and using twice as much butter as the recipes recommended for my meals, anxiety loomed over me. Don’t get me wrong, I know that it sounds like sheer bliss, and I feel very privileged to be able to actually enjoy time in the flat I rent. So, why the anxiety? Because I realised that, if I’d asked my friends to go out and do something – they’d probably reply “can’t tonight, sorry!”

Cuffing season: “It’s winter and I’m single – where did all my coupled-up friends go?”