Yes I’m single at 40 and enjoying it! The Daily Telegraph

When my younger sister Angelica announced her engagement recently, I realised I was about to become the last "unmarried one" in a family of five daughters. That's the way my father would often introduce the two of us at parties: “These are my unmarried daughters... the other three are all married, with 11 children between them.”

He did not intend this to be critical: with five daughters, "married" or "not married" is merely a distinguishing characteristic, like being blonde or brunette. The problem was that complete strangers did not know this. So Angelica and I would give each other knowing looks, attempt arrogant smiles to hide our embarrassment and slink away as fast as possible through the crowded rooms. We'd laugh about it afterwards.

When she left our sisterly alliance, ignoring our family's chronological imperative and finding the man of her dreams before me, she did so with all the affection and tact she could muster: “I'm only engaged — don't worry, I'll wait a really long time until I actually get married.” It took me until the age of 40 to feel truly single for the first time.

Not being married at this late stage is a double-edged sword. It is both galling and exciting to live outside the norm in a society where men and women are still expected to be paired off safely by their mid-thirties. The straggler is put in a box, along with Bridget Jones and the other struggling thirtysomethings. The media is obsessed with these females, who are only half a person until they meet the man who will supposedly make them complete.

But beneath all the fun, there is a strong undercurrent of disapproving convention. What is so irritating is that marriage is still expected of you, and that somehow you have failed if you don't deliver. Men feel this pressure of expectation, too; after a certain age, the word bachelor seems to describe a hazard rather than an opportunity.

Marriage is great if embarked upon with love, respect and wisdom; but all too often, that is not the case. I have found myself at wedding receptions wondering (along with some other guests) how long the marriage we are celebrating will last; and discovering a few months later that it is all over. I do not share the view that any marriage or divorce is better than none.

At the heart of this lies the fact that despite decades of feminism, little seems to have changed since Jane Austen's day. Marriage is still considered a necessary milestone for both men and women, despite the fact that sisters are doing it for themselves. Yet work and economic independence should mean that women, like men, can now look after themselves and marry for love and companionship rather than social and financial security.

The current state of marriage in Britain makes bleak reading: Relate says the average pairing lasts 10 years. Starting and managing a family is cited as the single most traumatic event in a couple's life. Looking at my sisters and girlfriends, I can see why. I love all my nephews and nieces (11) and god-children (9), but when I sit with an exhausted mother, coping with two screamers while giving me a look that says “I know you want all this”, I fear I am thinking the opposite. I can’t wait to get home, get dressed and go out.

Mothers, whether they work or not, are heroic creatures to me, and I am full of admiration for the sacrifices they make daily. Meanwhile, for those who are single, there is a tension between wanting children but fearing the end of freedom and independence — particularly when a woman's self-worth, rightly or wrongly, comes from having proved herself at work and provided for herself financially.

Other women are absolved by marriage; it is a career move instead of a career. It lets them off the hook, at least initially. They think it defines them, but then they discover that unless they develop some other life of their own, it constrains rather than liberates. If married women condescend to unmarried ones, and some undoubtedly do, it is mostly because they are playing their only trump card.

This does not prevent them from competing fiercely for single men. They want them at their dinner tables or in their beds — because the pressure to get married can lead to foolish choices and early boredom. Women are bigger culprits in this respect than men. In my experience; once men commit to marriage, they tend to stick to it. Women are trained for marriage from childhood, and when they have achieved it, they start to think: "what now?"

When I go to dinners, I also think "what now?" — but for different reasons. At this stage in my life, single people are in the minority among the couples chatting round the kitchen table. The married ones interrogate the singles with fascination and not a little envy, as they know it is their only chance of a live report from the front. They question you on everything, without feeling the need to respond in kind.

It is as if a single person is a work-in-progress which, unlike them, can still be probed and altered. Inevitably, single lives also sound glamorous when the younger days of endless gatherings, fizzing with attraction and sexual excitement, are gone.

It usually takes me five seconds to spot my other half for the evening, if indeed there is one at all. It can happen that a dinner invitation is entirely dependent on my bringing a single man along, as the hostess "doesn't know any". If she does manage to produce one, he is either:

1. Recently divorced and brokenhearted.

2. Fabulously good-looking and en route to Australia to meet his "partner", Jake.

3. Quasimodo.

Before coffee, the Big Question is popped in a variety of different ways: “Why are you not yet married?” (i.e., there is some hope); "Why are you not married?" (it's about time); “Why did you never marry?" (forget it); "Would you ever contemplate marriage?" (too independent for my taste). I gather up my belongings before the talk switches to nannies and the difficulties of finding the right spot for a bucket-and-spade holiday in the summer.

My answer is: yes, I do believe in marriage — but it's better to live on your own than trade in your dreams. It is also better to accept responsibility for your life than delegate it to someone else. For me, a happy marriage is a great achievement, all the more because of its ultimate mystery: it seems to bestow privacy and protection from the world, while anchoring safely one within it.

My parents have one just like that. They celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary three years ago, and their relationship is such that my sisters and I have always known it would be hard to replicate.

For us, it seemed perfectly normal to have happy parents, but when I grew older, I realised that it wasn't. Most of my friends come from broken homes, and at least half of them are already divorced. In these cases, friendships become a support system; like a second family, it is often more understanding and nurturing than a real one.

One of the great and unexpected pleasures in my life is my close relationship with several men — unmarried or divorced ones, that is. These are friends I have known for a long time, and the question of romance between us has somehow been settled. They give me the male perspective on a whole range of different subjects, which makes them extremely useful sounding boards. What is more, they are brilliant at DIY

They worry about their jobs, their weight, their clothes, their dates, their finances, their minds. Indeed, their concerns are not so far removed from women's — even including the biological clock. The only difference is that women hear the ticks earlier, and more loudly.

It is sobering to find that in Britain, four in 10 marriages now end in divorce (in the United States, it is five in 10), and that 71 per cent of all divorces are initiated by women. But this information has about the same effect on me as the "smoking kills" slogan on my packet of cigarettes. I read it, and I always wonder why I am still smoking four a day with such pleasure. It's the same with marriage: the need for magic outweighs the harsh facts.

Against all odds, most of us succumb sooner or later — if not for love, then out of sheer curiosity. In the meantime, what we all need to do is adjust our unrealistic 19th-century expectations of marriage in a late-20th century society. It is confusing and shifting territory, where increasing equality means that tolerance and understanding have become ever more crucial ingredients.

Many second marriages are happier than first ones, and that is no accident. Behind them lies not so much a desire for serial monogamy as the need to say goodbye to childhood fairy tales. The same applies to marrying late: one is more mature and considerate because one knows there is more to lose.

Until then, I will defend the single life. It has an adherent honesty and needs no adjustment. It is neither better nor worse, just different.