The efficiency with which he paired the socks in the drawer was quite admirable.

A word of warning to the readers of my column. Whatever you do, never seriously date a TV anchor.

Why do I say that? Well, simply because when we went back to my home after our tenth date she used the pretence of having an after-dinner drink as the reason, though that was not correct.

I had decided on terminating the relationship before this because every time we went out to dinner, she attracted a crowd while I attracted the crazy people. What I mean is that once we had sat down, people from surrounding tables would come up to us ignoring me and introduce themselves to her which she loved. They then took photographs with her and would you believe it in some cases ask me to step aside so I wouldn’t be in the pictures. I felt like saying ‘hey what about me? I’m a famous writer,’ but I don’t think that would’ve mattered. They wanted pictures with this 30 year old blonde bombshell who they saw on their TV screens every night reading the news, while some may have read my columns but hadn’t put two and two together or if they had, it didn’t add up to much.

So, we went back to my place after the 10th date and once we were there, she wanted to look around my house. She, for starters, had never thought I lived in such a large house which was so well decorated.

“You must’ve hired someone,” she said which made me livid.

“No, I didn’t,” I replied, “I did it all myself.”

“But your mother must’ve helped,” she added, to which I replied, “my mother lives 8,000 miles away.”

And then she said while running her fingers along the walls to see if any dirt came off, but was impressed that everything was so very clean, “but she must visit you often.”

Well I knew then thirty year old bombshell or not, this was probably going to be our last date. “So where do you hide the brandy,” she asked.

“Cognac,” I replied.

“I only drink brandy,” she came back at me.

“Well try cognac is better.”

“No!” she scrunched up her nose, “if brandy was good enough for Napoleon, it’s good enough for me.”

She was beginning to wear thin on me and now I was over the 50% chance of this being the last date. “How about single malt scotch whiskey?” she asked still walking around the downstairs taking note of who knows what.

“Yes, that I have.”

“Lagavulin?” she asked.

“Glenfiddich,” I replied.

“No good. I only drink Lagavulin.”

“How about water?” I asked getting fed up with her behaviour.

“Water’s not good for you,” she replied and she actually may have a point there. “It washes out of your system all the vitamins you put in.”

Wow, we actually have something in common. “How about wine?”

“Sweet dessert wine?” she asked.

“No, I don’t have any sweet wine. I don’t like it. But, I could’ve bought some had I known that.”

“Do these stairs go upstairs?” she asked.

I rolled my eyes, “where else, heaven?” She ignored my attempt at humour and walked upstairs and I remained downstairs afraid of what she was going to do.

“Come on upstairs!” I heard her shout. My heart fluttered and I ran. Forget the wine, the brandy, the single malt scotch whiskey or water for that matter, it was my lucky day. But I should’ve known better. “I have to tell you. I have never seen such a beautiful master bathroom in my life. Look all your towels are lined up and the jacuzzi, its spotless. Do you not use it?”

“All the time.”

“Then how do you keep it so clean?”

“I have a cleaning service that take care of it for me. I’m such a busy guy writing my columns that I don’t have time to do that.”

“And make your bed?”

“No, I do that.”

She laughed. “I don’t buy that. It’s too neat. Your cleaning lady must make it for you.”

“Why don’t we go downstairs and I’ll open my liquor cabinet for you, and you can choose whatever you want.”

And her reply? “oh, look at the time. I need to leave in a few seconds because I have to be up early tomorrow.”

“But you do the evening newscast.”

“Yes, very true. But I start my day very early with a sauna at the gym then make sure to walk my dog.”

“You have a dog?” I interrupted her. I really didn’t know anything about her.

“Yes, I have five.”

“5 dogs. Oh my goodness! And you walk them yourself.?”

“No, I have a dog walking service I can’t possibly do that by myself. You saw what happens at restaurants, Can you imagine me walking along the street? There would be traffic jams everywhere I’d go.” Yes, this was the last date. The writing was on the wall. The 50% had now moved to 90%.

“In which case you should leave soon,” I reminded her and suddenly she looked hurt. “Well, I was only going by what you said.” But she still looked hurt.

“I could sleep here,” she added.

“And what about your dogs?” Suddenly she didn’t care about her dogs. I cared more about her dogs than she did. So I added, “oh wow cruel,” and that did it. She walked up to the front door stood there waiting for me to open it, which I did gladly.

She then left after giving the air a kiss and missing saying, “see you tomorrow,” and then stopped turned and faced me, “maybe,” she added for effect.

“No,” I replied, “not tomorrow I have headache,” and she continued walking and got in her car. As I closed my door, I noticed she was putting her window down, but I have no idea what she was going to say.

The next evening, I did what I do every evening and that is sit down on the couch with my glass of cognac and my biscotti and turned on the news. It had already been going on for about 10 minutes and as usual Jane looked marvellous.

“And now to some local news,” she began. “To all my fans I have to tell you, I just broke up with my boyfriend after 11 dates.”

“10!” I shouted at the TV and took a gulp of cognac and struggled for air.

“And I visited his house for the first time last night and I have to tell you, you can always tell a man by the way he keeps his sock drawer. And the efficiency with which he paired his socks in the drawer was quite admirable. Every sock was matched and then I knew that this was not a man I wanted to get to know more about.”

“So,” shouted Eric the weatherman who was never right about anything, “if there are any eligible bachelors out there who don’t line up their socks you can call Jane.” He then turned to her, “what was his underwear drawer like?” Jane just smiled.