Divided by zero

There’s not much better than being young, rich and single, am I right? Having all that money to yourself, enjoying your free time as you please, and charming ladies left and right. It's not that hard after a few glasses of expensive booze and a ride in a fast car. You don't even have to be that handsome for it to work ninety per cent of the time.

And so it turns into a few nights of fun and a tender farewell with the words, “I'll call you,” which never mean anything. She’s embarrassed for giving in so easily, and I’ve already got my eye on a more charming replacement.

Who would bother with commitment these days? With all the crises and wars, bringing a child into this world is pretty irresponsible, don't you think? You only start thinking about these things after forty, when your biological clock starts ticking too loudly to hide it under the duvet and keep sleeping peacefully for a few more years. That’s my philosophy. Ladies are lovely but replaceable. Not one of them has been special enough to make me change my mind.