Fleur Ritchie: The bumpy code to love

What are the rules you live and love by?

I have never been a New Year's Eve fan; personally I think it is overrated hype that always fails to deliver. Last year was the worst one in history; desperate and dateless I sat at home watching chick flicks and arthouse films (which are basically porn for people who can't bring themselves to face the spotty teenager at the video store with actual porn). However, this year was a different story entirely - happily loved-up Pete and I attended a New Year's Eve wedding. It was perfect… well, almost perfect: as the bride and groom walked down the aisle post-vows, Pete leaned over and whispered in my ear, "It's like a funeral march, another brother lost to the cause." I looked at him with mock horror and thought, "Yes, this is why we need the code." A few hours, bubblies and beers later, we shared a romantic midnight kiss and he looked into my eyes and said, "You know I will marry you one day baby." It wasn't a proposal of course, but it made me weak, weak at the knees and weak in my allegiance to the code. I am ashamed to admit I broke it. I broke the SCOV code - that's right, with flippant carelessness in a moment of love induced weakness I broke the Sacred Code of Vajayjays (which for the record, is a word I feel rolls off the tongue much more eloquently than vaginas). The SCOV code is not unlike the barcode on a tampon box - men know it exists but dare not question it. One of the top items on the SCOV code is "though shalt not divulge to the male species that you fantasise about marriage" (or in my case, admit whilst stopping momentarily in a conveniently close proximity to a jewelers window). As soon as the words came out of my mouth I regretted it, knowing that my guy would lap up this little revelation and it would be stored on our relationship shelf.

So ladies tell me, what are your top three SCOV code rules? And gents, is there a SCOP code to match?