There are two main reasons why I am crap at talking to men who fancy me.

1. I always assume that they don't fancy me; or, more accurately, the possibility doesn't generally enter my head until later. Therefore, unless the person in question actually utters the words "I fancy you," I am likely to assume that the 'chatting up' taking place under my nose (sometimes a fair way under - yes, I do manage to notice when men talk to my breasts) is no more than amusing banter.

2. I have the unfortunate habit of being honest. Which is bad enough in itself, but I then compound this error by assuming that my honesty will encourage them to reciprocate in kind. Fool.

And thus, a combination of the above two errors has ensured me an awkward night out next week with a man who fancies me, but who I don't fancy.

Because when he asked me out for a drink, I didn't think, ooh, he's asking me out on a date, I should really base my response on whether I want to go out with him or not, but, ooh, going out for a drink, what larks!

So I said yes. And only the next day, when sober reflecting on the conversation, did I twig that I'd agreed to go out with a man I don't want to go out with.

Thus is exemplified error number one.

But far worse than this is error number two: honesty.

Which meant that when he called to arrange a date for the, er, date, I proceeded to agree to going out for a drink, but only if it were a platonic drink.

Why on earth did I have to say that?

So now I am guaranteed one of two scenarios.

Scenario One: I am sat in a pub with a man who was too polite to say: "What, a platonic drink? No way - I was only interested in getting into your knickers," but is now feeling very embarrassed at having to take somone out on a date who has rejected him before it started. Mutual discomfort reigns, at which point there is only one thing left to do.

Get drunk.

Scenario Two: I am sat in a pub with a man who believes that the way to a woman's ahem heart is persistence, so even though I have said no, he will act as though I said yes and will spend the entirety of the evening trying to flirt with me, so that either through embarrassment, or as the natural effect of being plied with drinks by a horny bloke, I will end up doing the only thing possible.

Get drunk.

Thirty years old, and I'm still clueless...