The love connection
What single gal hasn't lashed her mainsail to one of the internet's many dating sites in the hopeful pursuit of Mr Right, Mr Right Now or Mr You'll-do-'til-something-better-comes-along? As a result, we've become mistresses of the five-second assessment, fooling ourselves into believing we can deduce the likelihood of a prospective beau's commitment-phobia from the way he brushes his hair.

So time-poor are we that this particular trend looks set to run and run. I predict a time in the not-too-distant when every would-be encounter will involve a scoring system – an implant embedded into our foreheads, perhaps, that picks up on subtle shifts to our hormone levels to emit flashing red or green lights according to measured attractiveness and compatibility. So what if we lose a little spontaneity along the way?

I jest, of course. Lust/love is a random beast that, for the most part, defies scorecards and points systems. But it's a lazy bugger, too. As such, I expect that in the future UK men and women will, for the most part, continue to meet the old-fashioned way: they'll either fall in love/lust at work, or meet through friends, as about 20-25% of us respectively do (so much easier when he's right there in front of you). Numbers aren't available for how many of us fall upon the likeliest candidate in the wee small hours of a Saturday night, only to consider it a done deal when you wake up together on Sunday morning, but I'll wager it's a few. Remember that the next time you're faced with a five-page questionnaire about what you're looking for in a man.

Getting jiggy with it
We live in unsettled and uncertain times, sexually speaking. STDs are on the rise, threatening our health and fertility. So much so that it's been suggested that fear of catching something less than desirable from a partner may, in future, put us off having penetrative sex altogether.

Perhaps casual sex will become a misnomer. Since none of us can be trusted to shag responsibly any more, government agents may well patrol bars and nightclubs, ensuring that no random encounters of lust occur. Rather, penetrative sex among non-cohabiting couples will only take place between holders of Clean Cards – a chip-and-pin system offering medical proof that you're STD-free. Unsurprisingly, the number of couples choosing to say, 'I do,' will soar. After all, what goes on behind so-called respectable doors will, as ever, be given free rein: wife- (and indeed husband-) swapping will see a rise in popularity unprecedented since the '70s.

That said, the threat of – and subsequent diagnosis of – syphilis didn't stop Casanova or the court of Henry VIII shagging like crazy when it was rife mere centuries ago, so why should we think it will stop us now? Perhaps it would be better if we all took a little responsibility for our sexual health. I know, I know, it's a shocking concept. But it might just work.

Video killed the radio star
They say that where porn leads, fashion follows (hence the impending return of pubic hair – you heard it here first). So, with porn becoming increasingly out there, relying on everything from gonzo (DIY stylee) to fetishism to bring in the bucks, does that mean the average boy and gal are going to be increasingly into extreme sex acts? Or that before you can say 'Jamie's School Dinners' sex toys will be sold in vending machines across the UK as part of a Government-sponsored project to halt the obesity crisis in its tracks... (the promotion of any physical activity being so much better than nasty processed snacks)?

Probably not. As anyone who lived through the '70s will tell you, that decade was all about the embracing of porn and free love, with swinging clubs set up from Manchester to Margate. Or so the rosy glow of history would have us believe. In fact, what happened was that talking about sex became more acceptable and the pursuit of sexual pleasure became a realistically attainable goal. I'd go so far as to put money on this trend continuing – having finally embraced our ability to orgasm, we're hardly going to go back to thinking of England now, are we?

So I proclaim that sex and its many splendours will continue to be glorified, with the rather lovely side-effect that what was once unusual becomes, if not usual, then broadly condoned. If we play our cards right, we might finally manage to enjoy getting laid for the (condoms allowing, of course) simple pleasure that it is – without recrimination, prudishness or remorse. Now doesn't that sound good?