New Years Eve is, if you're single, the one night of the year when it feels obligatory to go out on the pull. But this year I really didn't want to.

Most of my settled down friends were opting out (a night in front of the telly with a glass of Champagne and some middle-class nibbles while their kids insist on staying up to midnight? No thanks!)

So, I decided to sling on my sparkly red rave shoes and stay up all night. But men? No thanks. Not tonight. It's all about me and the music.

The East End was where I headed for, to an old school rave up called Faith. It was held in a slightly beaten up venue in Aldgate East. I went dressed as a sexy supply teacher - grey pencil skirt, low cut black top and fishnets - with not a sequin in sight. My hair was slicked back and I adorned my lips with shocking red lippy. No sucker was going to get past that.

Midnight came and went, and I ducked out of any incoming snogs with polite precision. I danced like a lunatic to belting disco and nostalgic house tunes, and had a ball with my mates - a bloke by my side would have been a suffocating bore.

The party continued right through to 8am at a friend's flat down the road, and I felt so proud of the fact that I hadn't crumbled under the pressure to fall for some dodgy bloke who was off his head on pills. I was happy sipping Red Stripe, playing darts and talking shit, just as me, alone. And it felt good.

Could this be the new single me for 2008? We'll see...