Here begineth the lesson

Given how well my first official date with Mr Stripe went, it was completely puzzling to me when he suddenly went quiet. He’d been in touch every day since we met, he texted me after the date to say how much he’s enjoyed it, and he’d promised to sit down with Matt that weekend and ask for his blessing for Date No.2. And now – silence.

Three days in, curiosity got the better of me and I sent a quick text to ask if anything was up. His reply did little to make me feel better: “Sorry. I’ll be in touch in a while to explain. Promise.” What the bloody hell was that supposed to mean? Had Matt kicked off? Had Tom had a sudden change of heart? Or was something more serious afoot? I guess I’d have to wait and see.

A few unsettled hours later, I was at the Topshop press day with Vickie, who was doing her best to distract me with champagne and shoes when he finally got back to me. ‘Sorry for all the mystery. Matt’s Gran died at the weekend and I’ve been busy sorting him out. It’s made me realise how terrible a friend I’m being at the moment. Can we maybe put things on hold for a while until things are back to normal?’

My first reaction was disbelief. “Lying shit – I can’t believe I’ve fallen for another one. Why do they all talk such utter bollocks?” I ranted. Vic wasn’t so sure: “Oh I don’t know. Why would he invent someone dying when he could just say that Matt disapproved. I think you need to give him the benefit of the doubt on this one. Maybe he really does just want to focus on being a good friend for a while.”

Oh. Okay then.

Fast forward three days and I’m out at another press launch (it’s the season for it). This time, it’s my friend’s PR Company who are launching a new male grooming line and I’ve gone along to show my support…nothing to do with the champagne at all but as it’s on offer…

Come 11.30pm, I can’t see straight, never mind think straight, and I decide I miss Tom. “I’ll just send him a little text to say hello, that can’t do any harm, can it?” I ask Liv, fully expecting her to wrestle my phone from my iron grip. But she surprises me: “Do it. What have you got to lose?”

Oh, ok then…

Me: ‘Hi, I know this is against the rules but I just wanted to say hi…. So hi! x’

Tom: ‘Oh hi, I was just thinking about you. Wish you were here. You been out?’

Me: ‘I have been out – think I may have had one too many top ups. You?’

Tom: “Same. Just back from the pub. In bed and feeling lonely. Maybe a little picture would help?’

Me (struggling to contain full force of my wrath): ‘Um Tom, I think you’ve got the wrong idea here. I am not about to send you any kind of picture and can’t believe you’d even ask. We’re hardly at that stage yet. Or likely ever will be now.’

Tom: ‘Shit, I’m sorry. I’m in a weird mood. Had too many pints with Matt earlier and just got a little carried away. Please don’t judge things on tonight. Lets talk tomorrow?’

Me: SILENCE

Convinced Tom had finally shown his true colours and feeling devastated for buying his nice guy act in the first place, I go to bed in tears. Awaking at 7am with the worst headache in the world and half a dozen more apologetic texts, I’m not so convinced. Am I being the prude here? Is this perfectly normal behaviour? Have I totally over-reacted? When I recount the tale to Debs at work the next day, she certainly think so: “Carrie, he clearly likes you. He got a bit drunk and a bit saucy – that’s not a criminal offence. Just loosen up for crying out loud.”

Oh. Ok then.

Half an hour later, I get another message from Tom. A picture message – of a bouquet of flowers with this text attached: ‘It’s difficult for me to send you real flowers right now but know if I could, I would. I’m sorry for being a drunken idiot and I will make it up to you soon. Promise.’

So what do you think happened next? Tom showed up, whisked me off my feet and proved he was a nice guy after all?

Don’t be ridiculous. That was the last time I heard from him. But the whole thing did teach me two very valuable lessons. Number one, I should listen to my gut, not my friends. And number two, men cannot be trusted.

Here endeth the lesson.