Well, Normal Guy has turned out to be a bit of a damp squib.

After his first message, none of his replies have exceeded 20 words, and the few tidbits he’s thrown my way haven’t exactly been action packed. Who is he? What does he like doing? What floats his boat? Well, to be honest, I have no idea.

I thought I’d try to lure him into conversation by writing two whole paragraphs … but that failed, too. At this rate, it’ll take six months before I have any idea of his personality at all.

Anyway, since messaging is free, and there are plenty of people who are vibrant and engaging in the flesh but just don’t cut it on the page, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for now. But I must admit my initial enthusiasm has been squashed a bit.

But no matter, because a new week has brought a new paramour vying for my attentions: The Bull.

Now, you might think this is an overly dramatic nickname for someone, but if you saw him, you’d be nodding your head like one of those dogs that sits on the back shelf of the car: he’s properly beefy.

Beefy isn’t a type that I usually go for, so I’m not sure how I feel about it. But to be honest, I think there may be more problematic aspects to this friendship than physical dimensions alone…

The Bull is one of those friends of a friend who’s been on the periphery of my group for a while, yet I couldn’t claim to know the first thing about him. Although he seems nice enough, there’s something about him that makes me uneasy – but I don’t have a clue what it is.

He’s about the right age for me; he seems bright and interesting and he’s making all the right sort of moves. And yet. And yet…

Of course, my antenna could be wildly off the mark: Lord knows I’m not renowned for my ability to pick a good ‘un, so it stands to reason that my ability to spot a wrong ‘un should be no more accurate.

Maybe it’s just the unusual enthusiasm with which he’s thrown himself into courting me that makes me suspicious, but I have a feeling that he’s a bad boy who’s not to be trusted. At any rate, I’ll keep an eye on my twitching antenna but, again, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

But one person for whom the benefit of the doubt has well and truly expired is Uni Boy. Suffice to say that we had a minor disagreement that escalated into a major disagreement … and ended with me pouring a beer on his head.

Now, I know that sort of thing isn’t big and it isn’t clever, but sometimes words just don’t cut it. Part of me is dreadfully sorry that I did it, but I’ll confess that part of me thinks he had it coming. And that’s the part that hasn’t got in touch to apologise or make amends.

So it’s probably just as well that I’ve been given the opportunity to get myself out of town for a while. Being able to drop everything at a moment’s notice is one of the few benefits of being single. And when someone offers you the run of an apartment in the centre of Barcelona – no questions asked – you’d have to be an idiot to refuse.

It took me about an hour to accept and book my flights.

As of tomorrow, I’ll be leaving behind all thoughts of Uni Boy, Normal Guy and The Bull and filling my head with thoughts of sunshine and sangría. And who could complain about that?

Arriba, abajo, al centro … pa’ dentro! Cheers!