The news that marriage is only half as popular now as it was for the Victorians because women are delaying the 'crunch' moment should have sent me dancing and singing into the arms of my fellow female friends who are too busy being sassy to bother with those old institutions called love and commitment.

Like me, the new Sex And The City woman is all action; roller-blading to work, wearing combats, drinking swanky Cosmopolitans and preferring her battery-powered Rampant Rabbit to a fusty old fart of a husband. There is just no window in the hectic social diary to trudge down an aisle, swaddled in a white meringue, thank you very much.

Figures from the Office of National Statistics show that divorce figures are up, marriage is being delayed until women are pushing 30 and conventional wedding ceremonies are viewed as cheesy and to be avoided at all costs.

Now, I am no traditionalist and, being the by-product of the feminist movement that struggled to release women from the shackles of the kitchen and bedroom, it is strange that I find my heart sinking a little at this marriage statistic.

Sure, I love spending 'me time' far too much to think about the grown-up world of nappies and marital squabbles about who never loads the dishwasher, but there is a part of me that sometimes wishes to be part of a suburban fantasy where I spend my time making curtains and cookies while my man goes out to flex his hulking muscles.

Ashamed as I am to admit this terrible secret, some days I get bored with juggling my kick-ass career with my expensive wardrobe and just want to have the certainty of a loving man ''til death do us part'.

While my wonderful, do-as-I-please existence is due to the choices I have made, there is a small part of me that feels that I am not married because there is no man out there who is strong enough for me. If I found one, I would jump on him and drag him down the aisle tomorrow, promising to load the dishwasher every time.

And this can't be my fantasy alone. I reckon there is a whole crop of sassy women who are bored of eating on-the-go and getting through more men than shoes, but they are just too proud to admit it.

So I will put my hand in the air and say that, while I am sipping my Cosmopolitans and taking expensive mini-breaks with the girls, I am keeping an eye out for a man I can grow old with. The meringue and the fusty old fart can't come along soon enough.

A scientific breakthrough this week that revealed there is no such thing as the male menopause vindicates what I have always believed.

Men are moody creatures and they even can't blame their hormones for it.

Apparently, those who have tried to pass off their grouchiness as something that's caused by a biological decline in testosterone - similar to the hormonal wobble women have during menopause - are making excuses.

Scientists say men are moody because of the side-effects of being overweight and lazy, as well as smoking and drinking too much.

I don't think we needed science to help us to make this particular discovery.

* Chris Lloyd is awa