My sister met her fiancé sitting outside an apartment block in Edinburgh at 3am on a Sunday. It was around the time Tinder took off and we all started getting thumb cramps from swiping. I'm happily single and though I'd like my own romantic accident, I wasn't sure they happened any more. So here's what happened when I set myself a seven-day challenge to meet someone face to face.
Day 1
On an evening stroll through Regent's Park, I spot my first candidate: a beautiful young man sitting by himself, playing guitar. I'm surprised at how confident I feel as I wander over to him - maybe this won't be so hard. Sadly, on approach, a wad of pollen wafts into my face and hay fever tears start rolling down my cheeks. My opening line is actually a sneeze. I shit you not; I sneeze, panic, ask him for the time, and retreat.
Day 2
I do something outrageous on my commute: I put my phone in my bag and make eye contact with people. As I'm getting on the Tube, I smile as flirtatiously as possible at a cute guy. He beams back at me. We make clear signs of mutual appreciation, the Tube doors close between us, I cast myself in a 2016 remake of Gwyneth Paltrow's Sliding Doors, he disappears from my life forever. The lesson, though? Smile-flirt more.
Day 3
I have bad hair and a crisis of confidence. The only man I notice is Kit Harrington, inside my television, on Game Of Thrones.
Day 4
There's a fancy party. I put my confidence outfit on. "It's business time," I tell my flatmate as I walk out. I speed-drink a cocktail and introduce myself to two men. We chat, and they both find ways to weave their girlfriends into the conversation. Still, I am hella proud of myself for speaking to people.
Day 5
A lovely-looking man is reading a paper in my local café. I've seen him before. I spend so long staring at the back of his head, he gets up to leave. "Next time," I whisper.
Day 6
Out to dinner with my family. My father is present, so the best I can do is smile at the cute waiter when I order. At the end of the night, I leave my name and number on a napkin because that's the kind of thing I can do this week. The adrenaline rush feels great.
Day 7
I go back to my local café in search of newspaper guy. He's at a communal table, so I sit beside him and ask to borrow a section from his paper. I get that kick of adrenaline again and then, weirdly, our exchange genuinely feels comfortable. And it should, right? I'm just talking with another human being, what's the worst that can happen? Once you've sneezed on a guy and thrown your number at a waiter, these real-life connections do get easier. Newspaper guy hands it to me and, in that moment, I decide that this is our first unofficial date. I'll tell him about it if this coffee crush turns into anything more. It might not, but this week I've proved to myself that it's possible to meet people IRL. You just have to find the courage to put your phone away - and speak.
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