‘Isn’t this romantic?’ I said, holding Hot Danish’s hand as we crossed the IJ River on a free ferry boat to the Eye Film Museum in Amsterdam. ‘Except I’m here with you and HD,’ said my new expat friend.

I once tweeted about how Polpo’s tiny downstairs bar seemed so romantic soon after it opened. Someone replied – except she’d gone with a friend and lamented on being single… I had gone with a friend, too. I suppose my perception of ‘romance’ is more aligned with the second option in the Oxford dictionary: ‘a quality or feeling of mystery, excitement and remoteness from everyday life.’

Heading towards the cool new piece of architecture on a short boat trip to meet new potential friends at the Eye, I joked to my new friend, ‘When do guys appreciate romance? Usually they just want to be at their destination – and to get there as quickly and as conveniently as possible.’ HD did not disagree. However, I’ve since learnt that it is customary to bring flowers to a dinner hosted by a man in the Netherlands.

A Notting Hill-based friend once said her favourite memory was watching a sun set over the sea from a clifftop taverna on a little Ionian island – she was alone. I was impressed. I will always seek a dining companion before something to eat and drink; my friend is sociable but can really appreciate the simple, good things in life (unsurprisingly, she is an excellent cook and host).

Whether you believe, like Greek philosopher Epicurus did, that ‘dining alone is leading the life of a lion or wolf’ or agree with business magnate Nubar Gulbenkian, who said, ‘The best number for a dinner party is two; myself and a dam’ good head waiter’, we all need a little romance – occasionally and fleetingly.

I recently left a cute card with a gushy message written in Dutch under HD’s pillow. The following day I caught him pulling the pillows off the bed. ‘Oh,’ he said, looking at the clean sheets in disappointment.