Later...

1980's reject.

So, later in the morning, after three changes of clothes (too flirty, too frumpy, then just about right) there I was marching down West India Avenue, across Westferry Circus (pictured) and taking up a spot outside the Café Brera. Perfect.

Well, except that he tried to call. Whilst I was in Ray Bans. In full sunshine. So I couldn't see my phone screen to answer. Pfft. Not to worry, it would keep, whatever it was.

And he turned up. Which after the last time, was good. Only slightly late. Which I was oh-so-magnanimous about. And, well, without the off-putting two heads or a meat cleaver in his hand. Hurrah!

And we chatted. A lot. It was really good fun, I giggled a lot, looked shocked several times, flirted slightly more than a lot and really quite hit it off. So I'm glad I gave him a second chance and as a confidence builder it more than served its purpose, I feel so much better about myself. Even if this is only short lived, as it inevitably is.

It was also really lovely to have an excuse to look half presentable that early in the day, it made a nice change.

Which means, for the moment, I am feeling slightly more forgiving towards men. I'll almost certainly return to my usual bitter point of view, some time in the next few hours. But for now they can revel in the fact that one of their own actually managed to get it right!