At the beginning of this year I was in a very different place than I am now.

I’d finally recovered from an emotionally abusive relationship that ended in the autumn of 2006. I’d been dating The Narcissist. It would require a whole separate blog entry to chronicle “Life with The Narcissist” but the fact that he’s my past and not my present speaks for itself. I was single and happy, shopping for a new home, five months into a new job that I love and seriously considering becoming a foster mum.

Then…all change.

On February 14th the loneliness that inevitably accompanies being single on Valentine’s Day tempted me into dating again. So I did what every digitally savvy 21st century woman would do. I joined DatingDirect! No this isn’t an endorsement of them or any other dating site as I really believe that state-of-mind and a fair bit of luck play a much bigger role in the affairs of the heart than these match making businesses would have you believe. Again, another blog, another day. So, I signed up, filled in my profile, uploaded a photo and waited. I waited because this time I wanted to be chased. Under no circumstances was I going to “wink” or email anyone. Damn it!

An hour later someone winked at me. I wasn’t expecting much when I clicked through to see who was interested in me. In my previous online dating experiences anyone who winked within minutes of my profile going live was usually a “Troller”. A Troller is a man (rarely a woman but always possible) who is a member of at least four dating sites and generally harasses any new female member with winks and emails filled with plagiarised compliments. Shakespeare is a favorite of the Troller.

Anyway. Slim (as I’ll refer to him because he is) is no Troller. He is handsome and appeared sweet and honest in his profile. His age made me pause, 34…. but after Sabrina’s lecture about being more open (i.e. not just go for older men) I let that little detail go. We had a few instant messenger chats which turned into two hour long phone calls. I loved his kind voice, he made me laugh, came across as mature if a tiny bit lacking in confidence which, after The Narcissist, did not put me off. The most important thing I felt surprised me as I’d never had expected it feel it so soon. And if I think about it for a minute I played no small part in finding that thing that had eluded me in Every. Single. Relationship. before this one. I felt safe.

In our conversations leading up to meeting, I was completely transparent. I revealed me—hopes, dreams, fears, strengths and weaknesses—without fear because it didn’t matter what he thought about me, it mattered how I felt about myself and that gave me such a rush. Sure I may have been a little disappointed if things hadn’t worked out, but life would have gone on. As it turned out, there was nothing I could tell Slim then or now that put him off.

We had our first date on February 22nd. I glided into the lobby of the Hoxton clad in my Friday best of Karan and Louboutin, hair in the perfect twist, neatly trimmed and buffed nails, professional but sexy. I arranged myself in a leather arm chair next to the fireplace and waited. And waited. He was late. 30 minutes late. I sat cringing, dying inside thinking he’d blown me out. Lost his nerve. Couldn’t be asked. The first tear of humiliation was just about to spill unto my cheek when Slim appeared in the doorway of the restaurant. I knew it was him but found confirmation in the panicked “I’m late!” look on his face. Forgiveness came in the sweetest first kiss I’ve ever experienced and it marked the beginning of our future.

You’ll have to come back for the rest