Well I’m sort of new to the whole dating scene in London.

I had long term relationships before, the last of which ended at the start of this year, so I was in no rush to getting into anything serious. To be honest I was in no rush to get into something not serious either - just happy single and very glad to stay so.

But then I met Andrew.

The guy is a complete piece of art, or perhaps that’s just how I see it, I couldn’t say - my friends don’t think there’s anything special to him. To me, he’s just strikingly beautiful: very tall, the darkest, most smouldering eyes I’ve ever seen in an English man, olive skin, beautiful, black, curly hair, a little scar on the side of his upper lip. Just plain yummy.

We hit it off straight away and apart from the day we met, had just one other date, and well, just based on this, I think I could marry him and have his children or even better, leave everything and go travelling the world with him, like he’s done since his early twenties. Besides, the chemistry is just unbelievable, there is no other way to describe it.

So anyway, after giving practically no news for a month, he called yesterday in the night.

I’m not too sure what I was doing being asleep on a Friday night, or why my phone, which i alway keep next to me, in my bed, in case he calls, was switched off yesterday. But yesterday was the night he called. To ask if I “fancied a cuddle”. Now surely, in this context, drunk and at 3:15 a.m., a “cuddle” means a fuck, doesn’t it? Mind you, I would have said yes I think, regardless. I’m just aching for him.

But so, that’s just to say, that really, as much as I like to take pride in how I dress and be careful to look as best as I possibly can, I’m glad I’m doing it for myself rather than to impress someone or get something I really want - because sometimes, really, it feels that this doesn’t get me anywhere.