Just because of that one disastrous blind date she had last year, where the guy turned out to be fifty-nine, not thirty-nine (He claimed it was a typo. Yeah, I’m sure his finger just happened to slip two spaces to the left).

In the end, you have to choose whether or not to trust someone.

I've never felt so bereft and panicky. What do I do without my phone? How do I function? My hand keeps automatically reaching for my phone in its usual place in my pocket. Every instinct in me wants to text someone, 'OMG, I've lost my phone! ' but how can do that without a bloody phone?

The way I write is totally instinctive. I just write what I feel or what I find funny - and hope everyone else agrees.

I’m blushing at my own stupid, nonsensical, meaningless thought process, which, by the way, nobody knows about except me.

And we spend the rest of the evening getting very pissed and eating ice cream, as we always do when something good or bad happens to either one of us.

If you look good, you feel good!