Ellen’s first date had gone so well—he was good-looking, smart, successful and attentive. ‘How was your second date?’ I asked her.
‘There wasn’t any chemistry. We ran out of conversation. It was really awkward and I felt like I was doing most of the work.’

I’d recently been on a second date, too. He hadn’t anticipated how much a weekend visit to Radio Rooftop would differ from an evening during the week. Our table wasn’t ready, the house music was far too loud—the DJ seemed to be the one who appreciated it most—and the crowd consisted of surgically-enhanced aging rockers, Essex boys who emitted a distinct whiff of fake tan and extremely drunk women (at one point a crying woman was being comforted by her girlfriends at the next table). RR certainly provided plenty to talk about (or shout about, considering the din. I awoke with a sore throat the following day)—perhaps Ellen should have gone to RR with her date.

My date was attentive without showing possessive proclivities; generous without showing off; and he already had kids, which, frankly, takes the pressure off me to have them. (He has told me their names twice and I can’t remember them.)

But I just wasn’t sure there was enough spark… Was it because I enjoy my singledom too much? I love my male friends, Craig, Tom and Trustafarian. A guy might be okay with that, but holidaying with your girlfriend and an eccentric sheikh…?

‘You can tell me how shallow I am but unless he has an exceedingly large bank balance, a yacht moored in the South of France and a Learjet in Heathrow, I’d say you know if there’s enough chemistry by the second date,’ Monique said.
‘Follow that gut, WLG—it’s always right,’ another friend said.

I didn’t want a repeat of my experience with Joe. So I let him know that I wasn’t feeling it.

A couple of days later, the date sent a light and witty text that let me know how he felt without being pushy. ‘Perhaps you just need a non-date date with him,’ Liz said.

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