Once upon a time, there was a guy who could not commit. He flitted from woman to woman and when he came close to starting something, he would make a quick U-turn. Even when his friends started getting married, he stayed committed to non-commitment -- his excuse? The thunderbolt had not struck.
Seeing the hordes of people who have similar characteristics all around, a very smart film studio made a hit movie with the hugely likeable Hugh Grant playing the lead, called it Four Weddings And A Funeral, and people lined up for miles to see it because, hey, they identified.
"It's so much like real life," says Neil Chuong, a 22-year-old medical student, who thinks marriage is something Einstein invented on a bad hair day. (By the way, the R-word is such a sensitive topic that my friends threatened to excommunicate me if I used their real names for this.) "We're not commitment shy," says Neil. "We just avoid it totally."
And even for those who say they do not want to avoid it, they and commitment still seem like repelling magnets. "It's not that we don't want to, there are just so many things hindering us," says Frank Wong, 26. "Macho bulls ... , fear of going into unchartered territory, time, Halley's Commet ..." So women say they cannot find any nice, intelligent men to date and guys say they cannot find nice women who want them for them and not their PEP level (that is Potential Earning Power for all you non-materialists out there).
OK, OK, I will admit it. Both men and women are guilty of something -- otherwise the Social Development Unit would not have a reason to exist. In the meantime, the bureau of the Singe, Desirable and Unattached has to deal with men and women getting married later -- in 1961, the average age of men who marched down to the Registry of Marriages was 28 and their wives was 24. In 1992, the average man did not stroll down to the ROM until he was 29 and his wife was 26. So how did we get sucked into the black hole of postponed or non-relationships in the first place?
"Relationship? What's that? Who's got time -- I've got my career," says Timothy Fong, who breaks into hives every time someone mentions the R-word.
And he is right, you know. In between those 12-hour days, making deals, planning the next career move, and being nice to the boss, we have hardly enough time left to meet people; let alone sit down, pick up the filofax, decide who to call and think about whether we want the movies, Boat Quay, Clarke Quay, Prego's or Les Amis.
And when we do pick up the mobile phone, we have a 98 per cent chance of finding the other person still at work, or Opera Cafe mingling, or at the driving range swinging his seven-irons so he can do nine holes with the boss at Island Club soon. Or, when you reach the person, you respective electronic diaries inform you cheerfully that the earliest you can fit each other in is ... Christmas -- 1997. I swear, with all that excess baggage, we need a commitment like a dolphin needs a driftnet.
Anyway, after a harrowing day defusing land mines at the office, which of us has enough energy to be nice and beguiling and intelligent and witty, so our dates do not think we are totally charmless morons?
So we do not bother. We go out with old buddies or we go home and have an early night and watch Joel Fleishman not having a relationship with Maggie O'Connell on Northern Exposure and we feel normal. It is just easier that way.
And there are those who have no problems meeting people. But they are too busy comparison shopping to stay still. "We grow up buying the best of everything. If one product doesn't work out we trade it in ofr a new one -- even relationships," says a doctor in his early 30s who is seen at every cool party in town.
So guys complain that women only want men with cash, credit, car, charm and condo (I hear the last one has been upgraded to landed property, or at least, the Bayshore.) And women grumble that men want women who look like Gong Li and behave like the Madonna (NOT the singer). And grown ups (that is anyone our parents' age) gripe that we are too choosy. In their day, they just settled down and raised children without thinking too much about the metaphysics of relationships.
Unlike us. We use quantum physics to calculate the cost-benefit equation of the R word. We want the perfect relationship, even though we know we have got as much chance of that as Madonna (the singer) having gone through her ex-marriage with Sean Penn without fighting. And those expectations turn otherwise normal people into such quivering neurotics they make Woody Allen look normal.
Take my friends Lim Li Ming. She is 32, attractive, intelligent and ready to get into a relationship -- but no one seems right. "People say I'm a jerk-magnet," she says. "Every irresponsible, unreliable guy ends up on my doorstep. Maybe I expect too much, and guys can't cope with their emotions and act immature."
Hmm. And what list of excuses would be complete without good old Singapore Kiasu-ism. Thirty-three-year-old engineer Tom Ong will not risk approaching someone he is not absolutely familiar with. "It's that `face' thing," he says. "You can get over physical pain but the pain of rejection is something you always remember."
And when the thunderbolts strike, he reckons, the skies will open, angels will sing and it will be smooth sailing. It will be magic. But then, maybe there is hope for my generation. Even Charles, Hugh Grant's character in Four Weddings And A Funeral, who spends most of his adult life running away from commitment, wonders if he has his philosophy wrong.
(Hey, I'm not giving away the ending, OK? All I'm saying is that he "wonders". Go see the movie.)
So we have got a choice: we can sit pretty and wait, or we can bite the bullet, risk pain and heartache and see what happens. It is going to be a tough fight. I was out for coffee with Tom, who is generally a nice, intelligent guy. Along East Coast Road, we saw this really pretty kitten following us. "Cute cat," he said, as the kitten rubbed itself on Tom's ankle. "Take him home," I said. He looked at me like I was nuts. "What for? I've got my work, my squash, my social life, my windsurfing and a car to run. A cat's too much of a responsibility.
"And I don't need a commitment."