I swallowed nervously, my voice breaking like I'd regressed to puberty, and made the long walk to the restaurant. Entering the building, I gave my name and handed over my coat, simultaneously popping open three shirt buttons and exposing my chest to the diners (not the slick start I'd wanted!) Adjusting myself quickly, I was then led to a table where I saw a very attractive woman in a blue and yellow dress and some VERY sexy Alice-in-Wonderland-meets-Catwoman red shoes. Rising from her seat, the woman beamed a big beautiful smile and introduced herself as Rosie, she was exactly as I had imagined.What the viewers are also unable to appreciate is just how cold it was waiting outside. As my body turned to ice, I prayed I might find a "Woolley Blanket and a Hot-Water Bottle" on the menu and dreaded what Rosie would think of my runny nose and now disturbing nipple erection.Suddenly I was called to go in, at which point my panic level went through the roof.Four hours had passed and every other couple in the restaurant had moved on.Realising that we'd taken up enough screen time, and there was probably another couple waiting in the freezing alleyway (equally concerned over their nipple erections), we decided to head off.
Rosie was incredibly open and funny, telling me stories about the extreme research she often did for her articles, which ranged from creating new intimate positions with her team at Cosmo to operating a phone-sex line in her office (while spanking the desk with a ruler for effect).
Those two issues couldn't be more appropriate for my life right now.
After almost five years of living in the same South London flat, circumstances at the start of 2012 required that I look for a new home.
To kick-start the date, Rosie ordered a glass of white wine.
I then betrayed my faux-masculine exterior and ordered a pink Fliritini (I have a sweet tooth, what can I say?