OK, so if a guy texts you all the time, does it necessarily mean he’s interested?

I only ask because I’ve struck up a textual relationship with a Darkly Intriguing Man From The Gym but – as usual – my general stupidity with people of the male persuasion means I have no clue if he’s just being friendly… or not.

It started out with polite arrangements for an event we were both attending. From there, we progressed to coffee dates, and now we’re embroiled in long and daft text conversations once or twice a day. He texts me to comment on the weather, to tell me where he is and, of course, to invite me for coffee. Occasionally, he adds kisses.

When we meet, however, the conversation is strictly platonic; there’s no attempt at intimacy or, it has to be said, flirtation. Yet we’ve exchanged over 150 texts in two weeks.

A friend who caught us supping coffee in the park dedicated a generous amount of time to nudging and winking when we subsequently met up, but that’s because my friends are unaccustomed to seeing me alone with any male who hasn’t designated me an Honorary Sister.

No, there’s nothing remotely nudge-worthy about it. And that’s what I find a little perplexing. I’d be perfectly inclined to assume that the DIMFTG is just a mate, but my girlfriends insist that guys only get that text-happy with ladies they like.

If they’re right, I’m more emotionally stupid than I thought.

It’s not that the DIMFTG isn’t attractive – he’s a perfectly charming and handsome man. In fact, being tall(ish), dark and handsome, he’s pretty much exactly my type. Incredibly, he’s neither under the age of 25 nor over the age of 55; in fact, he’s more or less my age. And he appears to have all his own teeth. So I wouldn’t be totally impervious to any romantic approach, should he be keen to chance his arm. I just haven’t a clue if he’s remotely interested in me – or indeed, in ladies in general.

This total inability to read 21st century mating signals is surely a contributing factor to my single status. Basically, unless a guy is wearing a t-shirt declaring his intentions, I can’t believe he finds me attractive.

And even if he is wearing the t-shirt, I’d assume he was addressing someone else.

Should any guy want to try his luck with me, he’d better be bloody direct: subtle hints and sideways glances run off me like rainwater off a waxed weasel.

The indecently direct approach – snog first, chat later – at least had the dual benefit of unmistakably declaring intent, without giving me time for contemplation. But it’s certainly not for everybody. And I suspect that it can only really be attempted after a vodka party.

Anyway, the DIMFTG is very pleasant company, so I’m not too worried either way. If he’s not interested, I’ve got a great mate. And if he is… expect to hear about it very soon.