As I wake up next to Rashad. Or is it Raveen?

To meet or not to meet, that is the question. Or at least that’s the question I ask my fellow internet daters. The advice given on a lot of sites suggests you don’t give out your phone number immediately. They encourage you to get to know someone and to meet in a neutral place on the first date.

Hah, this is gay men we’re talking about, for whom a second date is an invitation to go steady, a fourth a reason to start designing the wedding invitations. Or, and here my well-hidden cynicism will be revealed, most people are looking for a quick hook up (that is sex to you, my first time reader). That night. Right now, in fact. No matter that it’s three in the morning and you have to drive over to the Holiday Inn 20km away to meet the Thai flight attendant who’s only in town for a short layover (pun intended, the Thai’s are not a tall nation and there will be some laying over, and even under, if you’re lucky).

No, it’s all about sex. Even if the sex is fully clothed in hopes and dreams of Mr Right. Even if the sex doesn’t happen (you find that they were an extra in The Lord of the Rings as a goblin-like creature, before the make-up – or they find out that when you said you were a top you meant it, and their egos don’t allow them to be a bottom), it’s hanging in the air like a pale mist, occasionally a deeply funky fog.

So, when you finally meet, it’s quite a charged atmosphere. Will they like me, will I find them hideously boring, pinching myself to stay awake, praying that a fire will break out in the restaurant? Or, as I discovered once, wishing I had toothpicks to prop open my eyes as he rabbited on about people I didn’t know, places I hadn’t been to or aspirations that made me cringe.

Look, this is sounding a bit harsh I know, but when he hasn’t even noticed I’ve said nothing for 20 minutes, I want to start screaming or giggling hysterically: “Hello, there another person here!” While wondering if it would be really hypocritical to sleep with him even though he’s an egotistical jerk. ‘Cause he’s cute. You see, it’s back to sex again.

And then you start to second guess yourself, and him. If I sleep with him on the first date, he’ll think I’m a slut. If I don’t, he’ll think I’m a prude. What if there isn’t a second date? What if don’t want a second date? Oh God, what if it’s a disaster in the bedroom (bathroom, kitchen, patio, car on the way home)?

No, no, no. I’m going to take this slowly, I say to myself. I’m a psychologist, I’m mature, I’ve worked through all my issues, I don’t need the superficial affirmation of casual sex. And slowly these thoughts come back to me as I wake up in the morning next to Rashad. Or is it Raveen?