Christmas is a great time to be single, right? The bells are ringing out for freedom, independence, opportunity. I could tell you to embrace it all, remind you you’re free of negotiating with partners over whose in-laws get priority, not over-spending on special gifts for a special someone, barely time to overeat, what with all the rushing between wild parties. But then again… maybe you haven’t been invited to any. I have. Well, one. The other guests (almost all couples) were described intriguingly: the big spenders, the socialists, the ones-no-one’s-too-sure-about. I had to ask: what am I – labelled, of course, as ‘The Single One’ – expected to contribute to the gathering? Fun, apparently. I was to be the entertainment, telling the assembled love birds what goes on in the world because they don’t go out anymore. It’s a fraught business, being special envoy for vicarious living. And shall we just gloss over the time I received an invite for ‘Festive drinks and nipples’ and was too scared to go in case it wasn’t a typo?