Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin . . .

THE MISSION: find a boyfriend.

THE RULES: keep spending strictly within a £20 per date limit; try not to get too drunk and whatever you do: DON’T KISS THEM.

DATE 1
NAME: David
HEIGHT: 6’ 5” or, in his words, “really fucking tall”
COST: £15. Well done me.
DRUNK: 4 pints: hammered.
KISS: Natch. See above status.
SEEING AGAIN: Noooooooooope.
COMMENTS: See below post.

DATE 2
NAME: Andrew (not Andy)
HEIGHT: Not as tall as he claimed.
COST: £7.40*. Gold star to me.
DRUNK: 1 pint, double g&t, half a bottle of wine: bit pissed.
KISS: Yup.
SEEING AGAIN: Yes. Has potential.
COMMENTS: Wants to run off to the south of France and have four kids but fears he may have to lower the number of sprogs in light of my great age. Cheeky bastard.

*plus the cost of the fags I bought on the way home. Dammit! Dating makes me smoke.

DATE 3
NAME: Yawn
HEIGHT: Didn’t notice
COST: Not much
DRUNK: Nope
KISS: ---------------------- negative
SEEING AGAIN: See above
COMMENTS: Highlight of the evening was getting an email from the Man I’m Going To Marry (more on this subject to follow) saying he’d had a premonition of me looking bored somewhere. His talents truly have no end.


DATE 4
Date 4 has been postponed due to inability (mine) to string words together and the doggy revolution I came home to last night which involved ripping up my vintage leather armchair. That and the fact there is no space in my brain for anything other than the MIAGTM.