6.40pm

The beginning is always the easy bit. It's the ending that turns messy and boring and unpleasant. Do you know what I mean? Maybe it's a skill, but if it is I haven't been able to learn it.

You ought to be able to bring it to a finish, draw a line under it and move on but instead, well, in my experience, it's dribbled away in a mess of dirty looks and snappy little arguments and awful silences on the phone, daring each other to hang up, nasty confrontations on the street.

6.45pm

Until the relationship just collapses like a building that's had woodworm and rotted away and had the roof tiles nicked and the windows smashed and been infested by rats and things behind the walls that you're not quite sure what they are, and then one morning you walk past it and it's just fallen over.

Something's begun. I can feel it. 

Anyway, as I was saying, beginning is easy. Have you met Terry? From the fourth floor? She's friends with Sally Walsh and she sometimes comes up when they're going out for a drink together. 

You know what she looks like? Kind of spiky hair. Slim, except for you know... I hadn't really paid her any attention. We nodded at each other, I think we spoke once in the lift.

6.50pm

And then a few days ago I suddenly thought, she's quite interesting-looking. She's not someone who'd be to everybody's taste but there's something about her. So I actually made more of an effort to talk to her. Yesterday I suddenly thought, well, why not? Then it was easy.

The next time I saw her, we chatted a bit and I said we should have a drink some time and she said 'sure' and I said 'what about tomorrow?' and she said she couldn't manage that but what about the day after - which is tonight - and I said good, that it was a date and when I said the word 'date', it didn't seem to make her angry. So there we are. Do you know anything about her? Does she have a boyfriend?

It took him days to ask me. Well, weeks really. I knew he was going to, though. I knew that he had noticed me; I caught the glances and the sideways looks and this lovely feeling crept over me - a warm tingly glow, a catch in my throat, a giddy happiness in my head and a funny liquid feeling in my stomach.

Something was going to happen. I just had to wait and be patient. And he felt the same as well - he would say things to me, with an intimate little smile. So I knew, and he knew I knew, and oh, I'm happy now. 

6.55pm

Going to work suddenly became exciting. Each morning I would get up a bit earlier than usual and take ages getting ready: I'd have a shower and wax my legs and rub my favourite body lotion all over me. I'd choose my clothes carefully, from knickers outwards. I've even gone out and blown money on new shoes and a dress that I've had my eye on for ages but I didn't think I could afford.

From the moment I met him, I felt that I knew him - recognised him - but at the same time I don't know anything about him and it's that gap that makes my heart miss a beat because bit by bit it will get filled in. 

7.00pm

Real life meeting dreams. I know he's tall and has thick brown hair that falls over his forehead; I know he has grey eyes with smile lines just visible around them; I know when he smiles, his face softens and becomes younger and when he laughs his teeth are white.

Sometimes, when he thinks no-one is looking at him, he can seem subdued, almost sad, and I wonder what it is that's worrying him. But I don't know facts. I make them up, when I'm in bed at night and thinking of him. I tell myself he reads novels and plays tennis and likes the same music as I do. I make up sisters and brothers and friends for him. A love life. 

I asked around, but nobody seems to know much about her. That's not exactly a surprise. If people asked around the office about me, they wouldn't find out anything. 

7.05pm

I like to do a little research in advance. I'm making it sound like work, aren't I? Well, it is a bit like work.

A first date's like a job interview. When you think about it, there isn't much that's pleasurable about it. You're there impersonating what a nice person would be like. 

It's not about being dishonest. You might be doing an impersonation of who you really are. Nobody can really honestly be themself on a first date, can they? You want to get it over with.

7.10pm

We're going for a drink. At last, and the waiting - the lovely, agonising waiting - is over. I washed my hair last night and I'm going to wear my grey jeans and my favourite shirt and the little glass earrings that I bought in Venice.

Not too much make-up. I'm going to ask for a glass of white wine and he can pay for the first drink but I'll pay for the second. If there is a second - oh God, I'm nervous. Butterflies in my stomach. 

7.15pm

I've thought of some of the things I'll say, just in case there are awkward silences. The first date is so important: it sets things off in a particular way.

It's what we'll look back on later and say, do you remember? Tomorrow everything will feel different, because this is where my new life starts.

Okay, okay, let me get some of this down me first, then I'll tell you. That's better. I needed that. Right. Well, you'll never believe what happened to me last night.