Diet Coke Man!

I was chastised yesterday, by a friend, for regaling my dating experiences in such a chaotic fashion that I had yet to come back to many of the dates I'd mentioned in passing and tell you the full story.

So, in an attempt to redress my errant ramblings, I've made a list - Diet Coke Man, Mr. Dyson, Mr. Socks, Paris Match/The Beached Whale (now he's a good one, as he forms the basis for Hugh - the character in my first, yet to be published, novel - are there any literary agents reading this who fancy meeting for a coffee, or a Diet Coke for that matter?!), the other date involving flowers, Loves of my Life Marks III and IV and I promise to come back to them soon!

Diet Coke Man is a quick one, as was our one and only meeting - I was actually quite excited about him, not least because, from his photos, he could have done a passable audition for the role of the real Diet Coke Man as we all know him - tall, dark, devilishly handsome and beloved of women the world over...

My own Diet Coke Man didn't actually look like his photos (why, oh way do people do that), so we did not get off to a great start as I did not recognise him. When I finally identified my quarry, as he rose from his seat in the corner of the pub,and waved manically at me, my heart sank. The dashing man on water skis on his profile had metamorphosed into a caricature of the ultimate IT geek with, as it transpired, a personality to match...

It is fair to say that his sobriquet was only coined post-date, as the 62 minutes I spent with him, before I could politely effect my escape, were the longest two diet cokes of my life....NEXT!