It's my 30th birthday next month, and my parents suggested we have a party, which is both a fantastic and ludicrous suggestion: fantastic because I love a good party; ludicrous because there isn't a lot of space in this house, and they've suggested this house.
I'm doing it. It will be marvellous.
It is, of course, the weekend before my birthday, as the weekend afterwards is a wedding - but I won't let that all-out action stop me. And, since it's my 30th, I'm inviting 30 people. In fact, I made a list.
Reading through it this morning, I was struck with a sudden self-doubt.
Oh my! What if there's someone on this list that I've had sex with? That'd be really awkward, inviting them to my house in the presence of my girlfriend and my cat! I'd better check through this... Robinson, young raver, Lightsinthesky, H, Farm Boy... Phew! Nobody there!
At which point I was struck with another, more sudden, self-doubt.
Oh my! Why isn't there someone on this list that I've had sex with? That's really awkward, inviting them to my house in the knowledge that I'm so physically repellent nobody's going to want to have sex with me? I checked the list, just to be sure. Nope, not one.
And so I attempted to reach a compromise.
Okay, well, what about kisses? Everybody likes kisses! There's got to be somebody on this list that I've kissed...
I carefully combed through the list, discounting everyone I've kissed on the cheek (which, in reality, is most of the girls - I am a rather tactile person) and/or seen naked (ie. Mane; the "Daniel Radcliffe in Equus" costume will stay with you), telling myself that if there wasn't a full-on snog, it doesn't count.
Nope. Nothing. Nobody. Nowt.
Apart from 47. At least then I got close.