Was that a hint? I thought. Was he implying that’s where he’d be if I fancied seeing him again? He played his cards close to his magnificent broad chest. I couldn’t see it under his clothes but a girl can dream. And I did dream. I dreamed of doing unspeakable sexual athletics with that body in the forty-seven minutes we were sitting there, forearm hairs kissing.

A guy who looked like him from Jersey Shore with the eyebrows and the ridiculous bling, took a seat on the other side of me with an oversized carry-on and rifled through the pockets. His movements were too loud for me and Future Husband to continue talking so we stopped and sort of looked at each other. He was fuming as much I was. After a while, it became funny and we were both smiling. Jersey Shore eventually found some gum and posted four pellets in his mouth, proceeding to chew and pop while texting.

‘Gum snappers,’ I sighed.

Future Husband looked at me. ‘Huh?’

‘The list. People who snap gum.’

The penny dropped, right into my pants. He gestured towards the woman on his left, not a relative, some redhead. ‘People who sniff a lot.’

I looked across at a couple of barefooted backpackers, flip-flops in hand, studying a departure board. ‘People who go barefoot on public transport.’

He chuckled, nodding towards one an older male relative having a coughing fit. ‘People who cough without putting their hand over their mouth.’

‘People who do put their hand over their mouth but don’t disinfect it after.’

He gestured towards a seated man opposite wearing a brown suit and mismatched green Crocs, doing a crossword. ‘People who wear those.’

‘People who barge in front of one another at the baggage carousel like if they don’t get to their suitcase first they’re gonna burst into flames.’

‘That dude picking his nose,’ he said, signalling towards another backpacker, also in Crocs, this time purple.

‘That leathery old twadge checking her lipstick,’ I said.

‘That dude hitting his kid.’

‘The dude who left the puddle of jizz under this seat.’

He craned to look under my chair, bursting into laughter. ‘Holy shit.’

‘No, it’s definitely jizz.’

We found a multitude of irritants and tourists to bitch and laugh about – Woman With Hairspray, Woman With Eye Tick, Drake Lookalike Licking His Wife’s Neck, Noisy Blonde Fivesome, Teenagers Flicking Mike & Ikes at each other until the departure gates emptied and the people got less interesting.

As I was imagining us strolling round IKEA, me wheeling the trolley with our twins in, him struggling all muscly with the sections of a Liatorp Console Table and a HAVSTA Cabinet With Plinth, an announcement came over the PA system and his party collected up their belongings. Of all the aeroplanes in all the airports and all the flights, he wasn’t on mine.

‘It was nice talking to you, Maniac.’