Tennis Player took eight days to let me know he’d received the photos from Beirut. ‘Eight days? That is phenomenal! I would say I hope he has a good excuse, but he has been on Facebook, right? A cool customer. ‘Smooth’, even,’ Plan B said when I asked how long I should wait before I replied. It wasn’t even as if the wait had been that worthwhile: there were a lot of smiley faces, an ‘I miss you a lot’ and a line which I’m hoping got badly lost in translation; ‘Everything went so smooth together.’ So how long should I wait?
‘Well, I would leave it a few days, not eight, but then again you do not approve of playing games so you should just go back tomorrow. If he does not step it up, you can cut him off and go with that bloke you do not fancy,’ Plan B said. The bloke whom Plan B was referring to was Joe, who I’d met at the Met Bar re-launch.
 
Joe had pulled out all the stops on our first date, picking me up to take me for a drink at The Sanderson, dinner at Hakkasan and after-drinks at the Playboy Club. He’d insisted on putting his coat over mine while we waited for a cab, and was generally attentive and gentlemanly. I insisted on a low-key second date as I didn’t want to have a hangover so early in the week; we had a drink at Upstairs at the Oak before moving downstairs for a pizza. There was an awkward moment when he dropped me off and went to kiss me on the lips while I moved towards his cheek.
 
‘Why are you dating someone you don’t fancy?’ the postman asked. ‘Well, I didn’t fancy the Trustafarian immediately, and he was the love of my life – so far,’ I replied. It is all too easy to fancy a hot bod, but it is also easy to stop fancying a dull or lazy, conceited character. ‘Neither of us fancied the men of our greatest relationships immediately,’ Natasha agreed when I’d asked her advice. ‘I like the sound of Joe.’