A couple of weeks ago, at a relaxing, uneventful Saturday afternoon barbeque, one of the single girls decided to turn up the heat on conversation with a dating dilemma. “Why would a guy”, she asked, as every man with a beer in his hand and no ring on his finger fidgeted nervously, “promise to call after a fantastic first date, and then do nothing but send flirtatious SMS messages for the next two weeks?” A few quick thinking cads made haste towards the barbeque to compliment the host on his steak flipping techniques and discuss last night’s game. The rest of us found ourselves surrounded by a school of circling single white females, eyeing their prey over a fourth glass of bubbly. As a single male, I knew my chances of surviving this conversation were remote. Ever so carefully, I backed up towards the safety of the kitchen door, mumbling something about a top up. Hidden behind the walls of my bachelor pad, having survived my near-eunuch experience, I feel it’s now safe to give you the inside scoop…