In which I consider my options...

Given the disproportionate number of sub-par specimens at my recent speed dating endeavour, the prospect of checking in the following afternoon to assess the aftermath didn’t fill me with glee. There was less excitement than there was a not-quite-heady mix of curiosity and foreboding.

Because of the evening’s high weirdo score, the potentially large ego-boost score was somewhat depleted. It’s not much to be told that eleven out of twelve mostly barking men would like to see you again. (FYI, the one who didn’t was the one who received two different answers to the question ‘so how do you know her?’ when he asked both Nutty Cow and myself. Note to selves: if you’re not prepared to admit to your online lives, then get your stories straight before the awkward questions arise.)

I scrolled through the list.

As well as the wife-hunter, the number cruncher and part-time DJ, the quite sweet Scotsman with the bizarrely Irish-sounding accent, and the equally sweet out-of-his-depth chap had expressed an interest.

In keeping with my firm belief that a gal’s gotta eat (and that, on a lowly PR’s salary, every little helps), I bit the bullet and acquiesced to the two of them being given my email address.

“I’m sure nothing will come of it,” I said to Best Mate, who was struggling for breath through her giggles, as I recounted the story of the previous night’s ‘multi-millionaire’ with a passion for international travel (around Kent and Essex).

And it seemed that I was right. For several days, there was no sign of any date suggestions.

“God, no,” I said to BM’s suggestion. “There’s no way I’m making the first move. I’m not that hungry.”

But, a couple of days after that, up popped an email. Out-of-his-depth had clearly been playing it cool:

Hi, Blonde,

It was great to meet you the other day. Can I take you out for dinner one night? Are you free on Friday?

I might be; he might be granted dinner-buying privileges. I’m still making my mind up. As well as working out how far down the scale of dating crazy I slide before I give up altogether, buy cats and go slowly mad. Alone.