Ladies, my hot tip for today is this; “Hang around a supermarket buying Meals for One long enough, and your Prince Charming may just come along!”

Like a scene out of Sex in the City, last night I found myself on the receiving end of a very average pick up line while checking the worthiness of the avocados… (it went something like “if you’d rather not eat that Lean Cuisine in your basket, you could always let me take you out for dinner instead”). At which point I looked around maniacally, trying to work out where the Candid Camera was.

He and I didn’t go out for dinner, but we did do our shopping together. And I have to say – it turned out to be the best potential-boyfriend-vetting process!

We both live quite simply (ready made meals and lots of Hors d’oeuvre /picking type food) and we both umm’d and ahh’d too long over which type of laundry detergent/washing detergent/powdery type things to choose (arguing environment over cost etc) and neither of us could resist putting in far too much chocolates and sweets.

But I knew it would never be a match made in heaven when we finally got to the personal hygiene aisle…. This very attractive, entertaining, middle aged man – having spent a small fortune on cheeses, chocolates and other unnecessary’s – proceeded to put the cheapest of absolutely everything into his trolley. The cheapest shampoo, the cheapest soap, the cheapest shaving cream, the cheapest razor refills. It’s not like I have a problem with a guy who chooses the cheap over the quality. It’s that he starts to tell me all about how the big corporations are out to get us – and he should know because he’s a lawyer. He bought the cheap stuff because apparently it’s all the same, but when you buy the expensive stuff, you’re also funding terrorism. And then it REALLY starts… There was some babble about “Them” having the cure for cancer and AIDS, another tall tale about how governments have killed Princess Diana, Mother Theresa, Gianni Versace and Marilyn Monroe, and an opinion on how Global Warming was a media beat up. I’m not kidding – Area 51 even came up.

It’s gotta be me – I must be a magnet for these guys. I must have a neon sign that only crazies can see that says, “pick me”. How did a guy manage to go from normal for 7 aisles, to Bizzaro-Man for the last 2?

Although, my girlfriend thinks that maybe it wasn’t him, maybe it was me – maybe he didn’t like me after all and was trying to “let me down gently” by acting like a weirdo rather than NOT ask for my phone number….

I think I’ll stick to the neon sign theory.