There are times in the year that are just not for the single girl. Valentine is one of these times. The constant questions from well meaning loved ones and smugly paired off couples on whether or not you’re seeing anyone are multiplied as that dreaded date looms nearer.

So last year I was expecting more of the same but had 2 valentines. True, number one was lazy cheap and didn’t last past the date but, what happened to sweet Valentines number two of the card and knickers?

Well Mr Valentine lived 4 hours away during the week. Perfect! This freed up my weeks for after work dates, hanging with the girls, healthy doses of pampering myself and something else….oh yeah, work.

Mr Valentine sold himself as the last of the classic romantics. I told him that I was a cynical romantic but we had something in common: A healthy appreciation for his….physical attributes.

Don’t judge precious. Some men are just more blessed than others.

All was well until we decided to switch things up and go to his place. I walked into a house in far North London only to find a Hugh Hefner wannabe nightmare. A white leather sofa with a zebra throw greeted me. The dining room was a full gym, the cupboards were full of pro max body building powders and he was forced to rush out and get an emergency stock of vodka and cranberry to cure my more than mild panic.

Upstairs the bedroom was all fitted faux silk black sheets and mirrors everywhere! Perhaps this is what was fashionable ………in 1979.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse I discovered that he and his room mate wanted a threesome. There are many things I would do my precious but a girl with a plan needs AGES to plan something of that magnitude. Besides, I had seen the home gym. These guys were strong health freaks.

Then he got a call and rushed out. After surreptitiously checking his wardrobes for any bondage gear I tried to shake off my suspicions that there was something amiss in this house.

2 shags later I spotted he had fallen asleep and his blackberry was left on the side. Who had he been talking to for 20 minutes outside? I checked the last calls made and realised that the call from his boss on a Sunday was actully from a girl called Carol. Was she on her way over to turn the non 3some into a 4some? Can anyone say entrapment?

So I did what any self respecting girl would do when he woke up and started hinting about the roommate. I turned one wrong word from him into a monumental argument, and promptly went to sleep threatening his manhood if he touched me again. The next day I ran out of there and NEVER looked back. Classic romantic? Classic prick more like.

The moral of the tale is if you must play away do so within taxi distance of home. And sometimes a little diva gets you out of a sticky situation …or 3some.

Chelsea Black is a writer. Romantically seeking her Fubo (future boyfriend) she often gets distracted by misadventures. She is currently working on her second book, first baby (sperm to be confirmed) and first real career. Chocolate and cocktails are food groups