I was in quite an indifferent state by the time we met. I’d spent years chasing the wrong guys and getting hurt, or going for the good guys who turned out to be worse than the bad guys because they catfish the hell out of you before leaving you broken. I’d spent years watching my friends get married and moving on with the next stages of their lives and, after feeling the panic rise within me with each new announcement and each spanking new break-up, I had finally started to realize that it might just not happen. And I was fine pretending to be cool with that. I was busy with work anyway and I didn’t really mind too much. Loneliness was better than heartbreak, I reasoned.

I didn’t always feel that way, obviously. I wasn’t totally hardened to the way society was making me feel like an unwanted spinster, but I had learnt to enjoy my own company the majority of the time, or just have a laugh with mates while not stressing about having someone to constantly check in with.

Then on my way home one night from a schmoozy work event I spotted an advert on the Tube for Find your Fish, a new dating app. I’d never been on one before, thinking they’d suck the romance out of that first meeting and that raw attraction that makes you adamant you need to go over and speak to the person who has grabbed your attention from afar, but something about the advert with its no-fuss design and happy-looking fish caught my attention – hook, line and sinker.

Following a rather painful attempt to put in my details and log into the system, Liam’s was the first face that appeared. He asked what I was up to and we just got talking. We messaged on there for a week before we actually met up. I’ll admit that when he said we were going to Wagamama I thought he was joking; of all the casual dineries on offer I didn’t fancy sitting next to strangers while possibly having awkward date chat. I almost bowed out when he walked through the door in Covent Garden and started skipping down the steps, but then he turned to me with a grin on his face.

‘You are joking!’ I stated with a laugh, feeling relieved.

‘Who doesn’t like a chicken katzu curry?’ he frowned.

‘Huh?’ was all I managed back before he started walking back towards me, trying to get out of the way of a group of mates who’d just walked in and would now be a space ahead of us in the queue for a table downstairs.