I confess: I’m a serial monogamist.

My friends and family tease and criticise me for this. In my defence, my ex-boyfriends made me do it. I don’t go looking for relationships – they just sort of happen to me. But, after I broke-out of my last bad relationship, I went into hiding. Mostly because I was tired of bending over and allowing myself to be subjugated in exchange for “protection” that relationships supposedly afford.

While single, I became re-accustomed to self sufficiency. I didn’t have a guy who was obligated to lend a shoulder to cry on when I had a bad day. I didn’t have a man to help carry heavy grocery loads home with me. And I didn’t have that “last call of the day”, before the lights went out, with someone who cared about what I was up to. But I was fine with this and none of it bothered me. I liked fending for myself.

I enjoyed my newfound independence. I felt stronger, wiser, and infinitely more secure with who I was. Although I could be a bitch - I wasn’t forced to be one.

So, when I started to see The Lad I was a little rusty at dating. It had been a few years since I had dated someone new; so a few small things came as a surprise. Well, to be honest I wasn’t actually surprised, I had just forgotten what dating was like.

I had forgotten I no longer had to plan my weekend in advance, because The Lad was guaranteed company, and in his company I found I was guaranteed to enjoy myself – even when our time together wasn’t based around an activity. I had also forgotten the rare treat of not having to pay for a drink. And I had forgotten if I had too many drinks (free or not), that someone might care enough to rub my back as I spilled the contents of my gut into a toilet.

I had also forgotten my favourite part of a new relationship: hearing The Superlatives.

When you start to date someone, and it’s been acknowledged that you like one another and you start to get comfortable, couples start expressing their awe of each other, to each other.

The Superlatives start with small, superficial things like: “you have the nicest smile” and “you have the most kissable lips” (and various other delightfully kissable body parts, etc). Then the compliments escalate to a more profound, personality based level, such as: “you’re incredibly intelligent” and “you’re the sweetest, most caring person.”

I was revelling in being “discovered” and I was enjoying discovering The Lad; that was until I sensed The Ultimate Superlative was lingering unsaid between us.

I had a gut feeling (and my gut’s rarely wrong) that sometime in the very near future one of us was going to blurt out that scary, four-lettered word. This was about to become a serious relationship. Lockdown was imminent.

I was fucked.

I cursed my aptitude for monogamy. Although being with him was wonderful, it was inconvenient, considering I was leaving London so soon. I felt cornered and I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up my freedom again. More importantly, I didn’t want either of us to feel victimised if things didn’t work out.

But I continued to run with it, hoping I wouldn’t get caught, but suspecting that I would – because these things just sort of happen to me.