The last couple of dates had been absolute jokes! Yet, I realised that I really loved dating. I really enjoyed discovering what I had missed out for seven years. It was fun! I could never wait to share my experiences with the ladies. In fact, I couldn’t wait to hear their experiences either. Though I was the only one on Tinder and Camellia had just decided to hire a matchmaker. And Bianca? Well, when she needed a man in her bed, she just went shopping in a hotel bar.

After sharing a few experiences with them and justifying the not-so-fresh scratches on my neck, Bianca said, “Ladies, why do you even bother getting into relationships? One day, when you’re married, you’ll wish you were single. Do we even need men in our lives? Some friends of mine have been married for 20 years and still don't even know what a real orgasm feels like!”

“Well, that’s their fault! They should have married a better man for the bedroom,” replied Camellia, indignantly, as if she’d just broken up with a man for bad sex.

“Anyhow, men will soon be obsolete. We already have dildos to replace them. And they are way better than 90 percent of them, I reckon. Climax guaranteed!”

“What about children? You can't get pregnant with a dildo!”, I said.

“One day, and this will be very soon, people will sell dildos with sperm in them. The packaging will show the man’s picture. Success guaranteed!”

I grabbed my coat. “I hope I won’t exist in that world, darling. By the way, if I die single, do you think that a dildo will be legal in heaven?” I asked, intrigued. “If not, I am not sure I’m going.” I winked.

I left without expecting a reply from them. I was going two minutes away, to Covent Garden Station to meet my date.

Date No.1

When I arrived, Romain was already waiting for me. He looked exactly like his pictures. I wasn’t surprised at all.

So, meet Romain: French, blue doe eyes, blond, 5’11, athletic, and 40-year-old, a charming gentleman from South West France. He lived in London for 15 years, in Maida Vale, and back in France he had worked as a farmer. Romain was a very interesting profile.

But in London, Romain was a Market Development Manager in advanced molecular activity in an international biotechnology company. He was cute and he instantly gave me a warm hug accompanied by two kisses on the cheek à la French. We had a walk towards Leicester Square and decided to sit in Browns on St Martin’s Lane and have a glass of wine.

Romain was a really cool and smart guy to be with; we had a few jokes and lots of banter. I understood he had a sister leaving in New York, and that his parents were still living in Bordeaux. He liked London, but preferred Bordeaux and couldn’t wait to go back home when he reached his money target to build his own vineyard in the southwest of France.

This looked like a wink to my date with Stefano, but I was firmly decided not to get too passionate for a while, especially when drunk.

I was telling him about my decision to hand in my notice in order to start my own business in Arts, which was also a passion of mine. I was about to open my very own art gallery. We shared each other’s ambitions in a relaxed atmosphere.

When Romain and I parted ways, I realised that we didn’t have much in common, but what Romain was interesting, I could truly get into him. It was the same for him – he had always tried to understand art, and could even paint, but he wasn’t as knowledgeable as me in this domain. That is why we both wanted to see each other again, as we both wanted to know more about each other. It was the most substantial and concrete sort of date I had had for a while. No cheap talk, just sharing real interests.

Date No.2

To be honest, that Saturday morning I almost called Romain to cancel our date, but we’d been trying for three weeks to arrange this second date, and I didn’t want him to think that I was uninterested. I had moved into my new flat that Saturday morning and unpacked all day to find the dress I wanted to that night.

And, I had been off for most of the week, but I was running all over London to decorate my gallery, to buy and sell art, to find a new flat in Chelsea, and to chaperone Camellia to find a matchmaker in the seven agencies in London we had selected for her. From Celest Connection, 70/30, or Drawing Down the Moon, it had been tough for her to pick. She had decided to choose Celest Connections just because I had an excellent feeling with its head matchmaker Stephanie. In fact, ever since, she’s been a very close friend of mine.

Camellia was determined to find her man and get married before the end of next year. Well, I knew she would, she was soooo resolute.

When I arrived in Angel that Saturday night, I was shattered by my full-on week. In fact, I was slightly moody, but seeing Romain quickly delayed my social jet-lag. He was smartly dressed; his shirt was unbuttoned and I could see his well-defined torso. When Romain hugged me, I could sense his defined biceps. He was truly sexy that night.

We decided to have dinner at Rodizio Rico, a Brazilian restaurant. Again I wanted to know more about the wine business, and Romain wanted to know more about the art business. We were basically exchanging knowledge. Then, we talked about our families, our work, and life in general. We quickly addressed French politics as well, but our opinion being divergent, we abandoned this sensitive subject.

After dinner, Romain and I decided to go to the Ladybird Bar. As soon as I got in, I knew I’d like it. The fun, the beautiful model-looking crowd, the swinging music, the good vibes and the beautiful neon lights were so attractive to me.

The bar was packed solid with the golden geek chic youth of the East Side, and after a few cocktails, Romain and I were hitting the dance floor. It was delightful and, both being very social, we made a lot of friends throughout the night.

At some point, I excused myself to go the ladies. Next thing I knew, I was sitting on the toilet bowl, woken by the banging on my door, "Val? Are you Valérie? Are you ok?"

I managed to move my head from the wall, which was glued with my saliva. I couldn’t believe it! It seemed that I had fallen asleep in the toilet. It was 2:30 on my watch! It seemed that I had stayed there for at least two hours! I quickly pulled on my panties and tights and checked my face in my pocket mirror. I had dried saliva on my left cheek. My breath smelled like I had never owned a toothbrush. I was aghast. The voice behind the door was becoming more and more insistent. I screamed back, “Yes, I’m ok! Thanks, I am getting out! Just give me a minute!”

In truth, I needed a trip back in time! Even my dress had lost its superb.

The voice shouted again, “Your boyfriend is worrying!”

“What?” I mused. “Romain!” Oh, my! Romain had bid his time. I couldn’t believe it! Why would he have stayed? It would have annoyed the heck out of me. I walked out of the ladies, feeling ashamed, and Romain was there, holding my coat gentlemanly.

“What happened to you?” Romain asked gently. He wasn’t even a drop aghast, nor was he sulking.

“I don't know. I guess I was tired," I responded, naively.

“Let’s put you in a cab,” Romain said, quietly.

In the cab, Romain didn't say a word. Romain just made sure I was driven home ok and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Silent people have the loudest minds.

Needless to say, I never met him again. I didn't even dare trying to arrange a date or contact him. I could hear his voice in my mind saying: “You are soooooo next Valérie!”