He’s got to be tall and handsome and love dogs – Part 2

4am, perched on the steps of the after-party venue in Marylebone, Ben’s lips grazed against mine as we huddled together for warmth in the biting February chill. Finally, the taxi arrived. We hurtled towards home in Hammersmith, an amorous entanglement of long limbs and late-night winter cheer.

As soon as we arrived Ben passed out, heavily inebriated and suffering from a winter cold. In the morning he went to use the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, slightly worried, I went to check he was OK. Tentatively opening the bathroom door I found him slumped over his knees, fast asleep on the toilet. Concerned for his well-being and not wanting to shock him out of his slumber I gently called his name and he finally gained consciousness!

Having successfully ushered him into the living room, I went to the kitchen to make him a sobering cup of tea. When I returned proffering Early Grey, I found him on the sofa, fast asleep AGAIN. Revived by the cuppa, a long, ambling chat followed; threads of each other’s life stories weaving lazily through the late morning sunshine streaming through the sash windows of the Georgian house on the river. These were the moments I really loved about romantic encounters; a type of “rallentando” of the heady pace of urban life; a safe harbour of connection, of truth, of pure beingness where pieces of your heart were exchanged with raw vulnerability, like precious trinkets from a charm bracelet passed down in a family line.

Enjoying the flow of the connection, I suggested a walk by the river followed by lunch at my favourite waterside spot – The Blue Seahorse. I had just moved in with my friend Alice. A very potent bout of amnesia hit me when Ben asked me the dog’s name. Ben, the mystery white fluffy pooch and I gently strolled along the river. A darling little old lady stopped us;

“Ah your dog is adorable, what’s his name?’

“I don’t know, he’s my flatmates’ dog,” I answered blankly, realising how dodgy that must sound. She looked at me suspiciously as if I had just dognapped him from Waitrose!