“But what if I get left on the shelf?”

It is odd to hear this phrase being uttered by a 32-year-old man.

Partly because it hasn’t been used for about a hundred years but also because it spoke to a nagging concern that had been playing on my mind. “You must be feeling the same way, you’re the same age,” he continued.

“I’m a month younger,” I corrected him, and then changed the subject fearful he would start using more archaic and feminine terms such as “spinster” and “biological clock”.

This friend is in no way unsuccessful with women but, like me, has had many short relationships and only a handful of serious girlfriends.

That is fine in your 20s but as you get older you start to get nervous as you have to meet someone, settle down and start sprog-farming straight away if you want a family.

You can’t afford to fritter away five years in your 30s.

I am a bit of a romantic at heart and, as such, the happy domestic scene I have painted is all tied up around marriage.

I think we were both affected by the numerous weddings we had been to in recent times.

Judging by Facebook profiles of female acquaintances, many of these have also tied the knot.

Either that, or huge white dresses have just come into fashion.

I began to think I hadn’t changed the subject decisively enough as he now seemed to be suggesting we could share a flat in our middle years to stave off the miserable loneliness he was sure we would both be struggling with.

His banter was more depressing than I had expected and he seemed to be including my plight too much as well.

I dismissed the idea of this future domestic plan on the grounds it would look perverse and I was sure I was bound to meet someone in the meantime.

I tried to convince him he would, too.

“Women are like footballers,” I told him “they lower their standards.”

“When they are young they all want to play for Man U but as they get older they start saying things like ‘I’ve always had a lot of time for Pompey.’”

He interjected: “It is that how you ended up dating Caroline?”

Now, admittedly this ex was a couple of years older than me and lovely – if I were to build a girl I think she would look a lot like her.

“No,” I said, firmly. “And we are talking about you.”