I was in for some nasty shocks. Shy date five didn’t say a word during our two-hour meal. Eight demanded to stay over. When I refused, he sulked, “Fine, I’ll sleep in the park.” Number 15, in May, had a psychotic cat that bit my foot. I needed to be selective. Instead of dating anyone who showed interest, they needed to share my passions, and have a picture showing their face and an interesting job. I also hit on an ideal location: relaxed drinks somewhere lively but not too busy (ideally, with a talking point), with the option of going on if it worked out or running for the hills if it was awful. Plays, films and meals were out.