I’d got to the point where whoever I met that night would have got it, within reason. I’m saying that loosely, I have taste, I have standards. But I was lucky – for he was clean, handsome and could string a sentence together.
We moved from bar to bar, doing all those things you do when you’re trying to get into someone’s pants – touching, flirting, laughing, stroking. It started to get exciting at the Hoxton Hotel. It was a Monday night but inside this place it was a Friday. We sat and people-watched. Two guys opposite us were interesting – one grabbed the other by the neck, seemed to be giving his mate advice.
He then winked at me. I was outraged! Asked my guy what it meant. He grabbed me for a very exciting public snog – my first in YEARS.
After that it was all go. Back to his. The sofa, the bed, the floor. All night. Before I went on holiday. When I came back. Again.
And then nothing.