We are lying face down on the massage tables, only small white towels covering our backsides. It was kind of awkward, when they told us to take our clothes off, because the two people who would be doing the massages gave us some privacy, but we didn’t have any privacy from each other. We spent so long trying to work out exactly how we both got naked, without exposing anything to anyone, that the massagers assumed we were already in place and walked in on us awkwardly trying to lie down, without actually getting properly naked.

We were so awkward, in fact, that when they placed the little armrest between our tables, designed so that loved-up couples can hold hands while they have their massage, we had no choice but to do it, otherwise we would’ve looked even weirder.

So here we are, me and Freddie, a man I met only a few days ago, in this candlelit room, with romantic music pumping into the air and the sweet smell of cocoa butter filling our nostrils, holding hands as we’re massaged.

The massage itself feels glorious, but the awkward situation with Freddie leaves me feeling stressed. I feel sorry for the masseuse working on me, because as fast as she is massaging my stress away, my brain is creating fresh stuff.

We have pillows positioned perfectly so that we can look into each other’s eyes. I’ve mostly been keeping mine closed, but when I open them for a second, Freddie either smiles at me or cringes playfully. I suppose this could have been much weirder, with a different stranger. Thankfully we both know exactly where we stand in this fake relationship – awkwardly close together, but completely platonically.

Thankfully, we were told beforehand that this would be a silent massage. We were encouraged to hold one another’s hand and stare deep into each other’s eyes, but to try not to speak, instead focusing on the relaxing ambience and the love in the room.

I know I’m only here with Freddie because needs must, but if things had gone to plan I would be here with Daniel and, if I’m being completely honest, I can’t imagine being here with Daniel.

I met Daniel four years ago, at a time when I was not expecting to meet anyone. It was just before I signed my first book deal, when I was struggling to get published. After you write your first book and begin the demoralising process of trying to find an agent or a publisher or both, you realise that writing the book might have been the easy part.

I’ve never been the type to think that everything will work out fine, just because I want it to. So I didn’t exactly send my book out into the world thinking that I’d absolutely get a book deal, but I wouldn’t have sent it if I didn’t think it was good – great, even.

I sent it out and the waiting was agony… and then the rejection letters started coming through, and that felt much worse.