Last night I met up for drinks with one of my 'fashion, dahhhlink' friends and ended up in a gay bar with some of her mates. There is something a bit mean about taking a single girl and putting her in the one place she definitely isn't going to pull, isn't there?

We established various things over the course of the night. Number one, I am tense. Very tense. There was - for reasons I really can't remember - a bit of a massage thing going on in our little corner, and when it got to my turn I was so tight it felt a little bit like someone was trying to kill me as my shoulders were pummeled into something resembling normality. I think it may be time to reorganise my desk at work and start booking myself in for weekly massages. That or I need a new mattress.

We also established - like I needed to be told - that I am the Charlotte. That is to say I will always be the sweet, innocent one who's shocked the most by whatever is said.

Everyone wants to be Carrie, and the four wardrobes, hundreds of shoes and the fact that I'm sat writing this on a laptop on my underwear (ok, jeans and a t-shirt) does give me a heads up in that department, but it all comes crashing down when people start talking about sex or ask me for my opinions on marriage. I'm Charlotte.

And I'm ok with that.