With more and more single woman graduates, SDU would have done a booming business as the national matchmaker. But no thanks, I would rather have Mr Cat as my companion.

If I share the same composition as milk, you will not see me displayed in the fresh milk section. With some luck, I am a tin of condense milk; if worse, cheese.

The golden era of the university days whiz me by. I was still young, and men aplenty. Now that my complementary membership in SDU has run out, I am saying goodbye to the wide range of social activities from salsa dancing to trips to Cambodia.

Not that I will feel stupid to pay $40 to be eventually labeled as "Single, Desperate and Ugly" for 5 years, I do not believe in shopping for a man like how one buys cars: Prepare a checklist, pick a brand you can afford, walk into the showroom, be lured by the shine and sparkle, go for a adrenaline pumping test drive and throw in your deposit.

I am still a die-hard When-Harry-Met-Sally cum Notting-Hill romantic. I replay rehearse this dream in my mind many times: meeting my man at a bookstore, both of us reaching out for the last copy of Natsume Soseki's "I am a Cat". There I am, dressed in my t-shirt and jeans, and he sporting his nerdy black horn-rimmed spectacles, but we would not notice this. After the first date, the occupation of each other would not even have cropped up in our conversation, as we will be too engrossed with sharing our favourite sections of the book.

That being said, I have to admit that SDU did a good job in revamping to a snazzier image, complete with hip lingo like "Whazz Up" and advice on "How to lure a guy" on their website. To the value-conscious, the SDU membership card will even give you a few discounts at some beverage joints.

Like a glass of wine, I have also come to realise that SDU membership fee increases with age, but meanwhile, give me a cat anytime.