How to REALLY lose a guy in 24 hours

The next morning I woke up wearing nothing more than Andy’s soft purple jumper.

His arms around me, as if we’ve been married for 15 years. I remembered we even said ‘good night’ before falling asleep. Lovely. What was going to be next? ‘I want to move in with you’?

I stretched my arm to get a cup with water, which was on my side of the bed; and as I was swallowing a sip I heard Andy through his yawn:

'I am aristocracy’

I almost chocked! ‘Oh, it must be hard to carry such a burden’, I managed to spill, to which, I think he said ‘yes’. Scouser aristocrat – surely that’s a contradiction. I decided to let this one stay unquestioned – my head felt like made of lead. What did I drink? Oh, rum. Yeah.

‘Why so far away from me?’ said Andy with his sexy accent. He turned me around and brought me to lie on his arm, holding me tenderly with one hand around my waist.

I enjoyed it. He was cuddly and warm. Just like a man should be.

We chatted and laughed a lot, occasionally engaging in a long, sexy look in the eyes.

‘They like each other’ Andy pointed out towards our feet, which were embracing on their own accord.

I blushed, but he just held out his palm to mine (which, as always, was in the air making gestures). It felt as our hands were magnetic – touching released such bliss.

I would have loved to stay like this until eternity, but Christmas shopping was calling. Andy offered to take me for a coffee and to walk me to the station, but I finally settled for giving him my mobile number.

On the way home I couldn’t believe how great it all felt. But then I panicked about what could be next. Am I ready for it?

The next day, when I was on the phone with my Mother (who was listing the tenth of the twelve (!) dishes she was preparing for Christmas Eve), I had a call waiting from Andy. My heart jumped, I told my Mum I would call her later, but I just kept staring at the phone’s screen showing ‘Andy’… and I froze.

1 Missed call.

I thought about this many times and still I’m not totally sure why I didn’t answer. Maybe I was scared. That he might have been THE ONE.

The following day I came to my senses and got myself to text Andy:

‘Hey. You’ve called. Sorry, I was on the other line. How’s your weekend been? M.’

What a ridiculous thing to say 26 hours later! There is no hope for me.

‘A very sound weekend.

Am working on the Independent now.

You’re lucky I’m texting: I’m having to run many lines here.

Hope you’re well.’

The reply didn’t sound either warm or hopeful (but what did I expect?) – I better leave it before it turns even worse – I decided, trying to stir my thoughts towards something cheerful. Oh, like the recent phone call from my gynaecologist. I would swear he was flirting with me with his line ‘I’ve heard Bupa doesn’t let me see you’. Did he have a ring on his finger? I couldn’t remember, but will make sure to check, when I see him next, in two weeks time…