Two whole posts and not a mention of dates?

Better bring you up to speed then.

Simon called said 'actually, I really want to see you again, but call me if you want to after your other dates'. Fair enough. I totally understood that. Think it's fairer if I don't.

In all honesty, whilst I liked him, I just didn't fancy him. I kind of knew I wouldn't before I met him. When he moaned about the price of a glass of wine, in a beautiful bar in a park, when it wasn't extortionate, and I didn't expect him to pick up the tab, I thought, not very me really. It's a stupid thing, maybe, to base a decision on, but I found it ungallant. I thought, 'hey boy, it's just a drink, and if it's too much, have a coke, don't complain'.

If there had been loads of chemistry I'm sure I would have got over it, but without that, I can't be bothered.

I see Sven Monday. He's a millionaire and makes little secret of it. Actually, I'm only sure of this cos I googled him, but he is certainly not shy of giving out details about his lifestyle that let me know he's loaded. He'll probably be worse, probably bring his own wine. It's the way isn't it, so often. No one in my family ever had any money, but we're always fighting to pick up the tab and spoil each other.

I'm really not sure I want to meet him, he has the weirdest accent in the world, two parts German, two parts Uber-Chelsea, one part camptastic. He's taking accent removal lessons, which, I'm tempted to say means he has more money than sense, although having spoken to him, I'm not so sure.

He sounds very decadent, and I don't know I can be arsed with decadence. I suspect there's a rich kicks thing going on with him too, that he liked me because I was honest about my sexuality which made him go 'racy'. Maybe I'm just a cynical old witch or maybe it was the reference to S&M, who knows? S&M baffles me. Actually, I'm intellectually curious about it, but don't get it. If I want to hurt myself I'll set up camp in the fridge and stop writing.

I wouldn't want to combine pain, for me, or anyone I wanted to sleep with, with sex. You all know me well enough to know I'm hardly prudish, but really, sex is supposed to be a nice thing, and pain hurts. It's like putting mushy peas on a cheesecake.

He also describes himself as 'very attractive' and whilst he's certainly not ugly, he's not the gardener or anything.

Who strictly speaking, should be in another post, as he's not a date, but me, strictly, not good together. I have managed, largely through attrition I suspect, to talk him into being my friend. Honestly, it's been much harder work than such an offer, so sparingly proffered, should merit. Nevertheless, having battled over the criteria for friendship, and offered a cast iron guarantee that I won't jump his bones at Waterloo station, I'm genuinely delighted that I get to meet him.